Living Carnivore
by robotiger
Summary: It all starts when the BLU Medic attempts to improve his team's self-healing abilities with his latest experiment, which honestly should have had the label "Results May Vary." RED Sniper catches on soon enough, and everything that the mercenaries believed in goes tumbling down from there. (Rated M for gore)
1. Chapter 1

**[[Hey! Alex again. This fanfiction was written by both myself and Kara, yet again in tandem. We worked on it for maybe a week, and now it's 20k+ words total and finished! We hope you like reading it. :3 Rated M pretty much solely for gore.]]**

Snowpoint was cold. Too cold.

That's what Soldier thought, anyways. The Midwest of the U.S.A. was much hotter than this. His beloved shovel had frost crawling up its edges. He was holding it in front of the fireplace to warm it up when the BLU Medic tapped him on the shoulder.

"Time for your checkup, Herr Soldier. Schnell, now."

Soldier stood up tall and followed the German towards his clinic.

"Why do I need a checkup?" he complained. "I assure you, I'm in my peak physical condition!"

"Ja, ja, Soldier. I know. Ve just have to make sure of zhat."

Soldier huffed.

The two rounded the corner and entered the infirmary. They entered to see Scout, who was holding his stomach.

"Oh! Hello Herr Scout. Is zhere something wrong? You don't seem well," Medic asked the sickly looking merc.

"Nnh... No, doc," Scout sputtered, leaning over even further. "Not at all. I feel like a squirrel is runnin' around inside there or somethin'." He nodded downwards at his stomach.

"Vell, zhat's not good. Anything else?"

Scout only swallowed, trying to hold down the whatever-it-was he felt scrambling up his insides as Medic stepped closer and shuffled through his medical tools.

A muffled squawk rose from Scout's chest. Medic paused.

"Archimedes?" he asked, "Is zhat vhere you went?" The little dove had been gone since yesterday. He must have gotten inside Scout when Medic was patching him up. "Vell, ve must get zhat bird out of zhere!" Medic chuckled. "Herr Scout, I request zhat you lay on zhe table. Zhis shouldn't hurt. Don't worry."

Medic flicked the switch on the gigantic Medigun that loomed over the table. A frisky neon-blue wave of light emanated over Scout while Medic shuffled for more medical supplies.

"Out," he barked at Soldier. "Your checkup is delayed."

Soldier's grin was almost brighter than the Übercharge. "Diiiiiis-missed!" He made an about-face and bounded cheerfully out of the room, the doors slamming ungracefully behind him.

Scout's stomach rolled and he fidgeted uncomfortably on the table. He was terrified.

He felt a painful thump in his chest and he saw his shirt shift on the outside.

Well, even though he was scared, at least Medic would get the dumb thing out of him.

"I don't vant to use zhe Medigun on you right avay, so I'm going to try somezing before zhat needs to happen," Medic said.

Scout gulped, but complied. He situated himself on the tabletop until he was comfortable and tried to relax. "Wh—what is it?"

"It's an experiment I vas vorking on. It's a stem-cell regeneration solution… I vas thinking zhat, vell, maybe…" A glossy looked misted over his eyes as he stared at nothing, his mind in another place. He shook his head and came back to reality. "Vell. You'll see. First, I must turn zhis on to keep you alive…" The German swung various machinery around until his Quick-Fix was aimed at Scout, and he switched it on. The blue light streamed out of the nozzle and towards Scout's heart.

Medic glowered as he went back and rummaged through his drawers, finally finding the correct tools before he sliced Scout's chest open. Scout closed his eyes as tight as possible and tried not to scream. He was shot every day, he thought. He would live through this. He held his breath and repeated it to himself over and over, rolling his head back and forth while Medic hacked away.

"Zhere," Medic grumbled, wiping the sweat off his forehead while a plump bird nestled in his free hand. "I did it."

Scout looked down and nearly retched; the only reason he didn't was because he knew it would spatter all over his organs. "Hhh," he squeaked. "Hurry, Doc. I can't do this."

"Fine." Medic placed his bird gently on the edge of his desk as he turned to find a certain needle. "I'm going to try zhe stem-cell regeneration concoction I created. Vether or not you are villing, I am using it on you. If it vorks, and heals you faster zhan my Medigun, vell..." He shrugged. "Zhe BLU team vill never lose again."

"Wait, what?" Scout froze. "So… So you don't know if it works, then?" Medic nodded.

It couldn't be that bad... could it?

The German grabbed a few test tubes and he mixed the liquids and they fizzled into a thick, pale brew. Medic carefully poured it over Scout's open wound and instantly the cells began regenerating.

"Wonderful!" Medic exclaimed, shrugging his shoulders gleefully.

"Did anything go wrong?" Scout decided not to stare at the wound. It was too disgusting.

"I think ve have succeeded," Medic smiled to himself, "You should be fine in no time at all."


	2. Chapter 2

The RED Sniper was up in the loft, sitting cross-legged atop a pile of sweet-smelling alfalfa.

He was focused on the BLU base, glasses off, peering through his rifle's scope into the window of the opposite building. His BLU counterpart had scribbled him a letter and sent it his way on a flying arrow during the day's battle. It said that the BLU had sniffed out some shonky business with the BLU Medic.

'Best be looking out, mate. Your doc might be as willy-nilly as ours is. Watch out. Sincerely, the other bushwhacker. PS: I'm only writing you this because you're the only other Aussie around here. I still hate you.'

RED Sniper had never noticed anything wrong with his Medic. However rude the BLUs were, he appreciated the alternate Sniper's letter.

Rather than keeping a close eye on his doctor, however, he was keeping a close eye on the BLU.

The window he was currently looking into belonged to the infirmary. He recalled Scout saying that the BLU base mimicked the RED one, only opposite, so Sniper fished out the BLU infirmary and was looking at it now.

Cutting a Scout to pieces and then watching him grow back in what seemed like a second?

Shonky enough for Sniper to tell his best mate about it. Sniper would tell him in the morning. For now, he would scope out a bird or two. He was hungry.

Scout began to feel sick again. It wasn't as bad as before, though. Only a dull pain. Nothing too bothersome. Hopefully Medic's delirious-looking potion didn't have any worse side effects.

"Dinner should be soon," Medic reminded him. "It's Spy's turn to cook, if I remember right." Spy's food wasn't bad. Better than Engie's, but that was just Scout's opinion.

"So I can leave now?"

Medic nodded and gave Scout's shoulder a quick pat.

"Off you go! I'll be zhere soon. I must clean."

Scout strolled through the halls. The pain grew a bit more prominent, but still, he ignored it. The aroma of herbs and chicken wafted through the corridors and attracted the hungry Scout. He stumbled into the kitchen and slid into a seat next to Demoman. Everyone around him chatted and honestly, nothing really seemed off. The only odd thing was that Scout the chatterbox wasn't joining in the conversation. His pain was becoming difficult to ignore and his chest felt like it was burning. Like a sunburn, only worse. He groaned and leaned his head on the table. Letting Medic test stuff on him was probably the last thing he should have done.

"You alrigh', boy? Wha's the matter with ye?" Demoman nudged Scout's shoulder with his elbow as he glanced down, trying to look the boy in the eye.

Scout heaved his shoulders and groaned. When he looked up, Demoman gasped quietly.

Scout's face had a sickly green hue to it, and darkish spots like freckles had cropped up on his cheeks and forehead. Demoman glanced nervously across the table for Medic, who wasn't there. The man was still busy dawdling in the infirmary- late for dinner, as usual.

"Bloodeh cripes," Demoman muttered, rising from the table and wrapping his fingers around Scout's shoulders. He lifted the boy up and ushered him away, tilting the baseball cap so that Scout's face was hidden in the shadow. If the rest of the mercenaries saw Scout like that, a vicious uproar would be sure to arise.

"Ye jus' came from Medic's place, righ'?"

Scout tried to respond but all that came out was a disgusting moan. He would've been surprised, but he was too tired to do much else besides shuffle alongside the Scotsman. His stomach growled violently and he grunted when a sharp pain stabbed inside him like a blade. Demoman rapped his knuckles on the infirmary door multiple times.

"GO AVAY! BUSY!"

"But Doc, the boy's lookin' a little-"

"NEIN!" Medic hollered. Demoman looked surprised. "I am _busy_." Medic peered out the doorway, the door only a few inches opened. "You know how I like to organize."

He was right. Not even when Pyro accidentally chopped their hand off did Medic respond- and it was because he was re-cleaning his medical room.

"Fine, ye damned rat," Demoman spat. The door slammed in his face and he sighed as he slowly pulled the tired young man back to his Red-Sox-themed bedroom.

Demoman opened the door and Scout dragged himself to the bed, flopping down on it unceremoniously. Demoman sighed.

"Y'need anythin', ye git me, alrigh'?"

He was replied to with another one of Scout's stomach snarls and he sighed.

"I'll bring ye somethin' back." He closed the door behind him as he left the tired Scout in the dark.

That damned Medic. What the hell had he done? Scout felt absolutely, positively horrid. Demoman soon returned with a few slices of bread and a glass of tap water. Scout propped himself up and turned to face the man

"Drink up, boyo." Demoman placed the cup in Scout's shaky hands. He brought it to his lips and began to slowly sip it down. Demoman eyed the young man as he drank and took small nibbles of the bread. The room was quite dim and the Scotsman was almost sure that the Scout's eyes were glowing slightly.

"D'ye know what exactly that Medic did t'ye?" Demoman questioned. Scout coughed and took a quick swig of his drink. He attempted again to speak, but all that came out was another growl. Demo scowled, and then gruffly stood. "That doc ain't right in 'is 'ead. I'll talk to 'im meself. That bastard's bloodeh cleanin' can wait."

After Demoman stepped out of the room for a second time, Scout leaned back in his bed and placed the cup on his nightstand. He had eaten the bread out of politeness, and plus, he couldn't muster up the energy to speak actual English at this point. He was exhausted.

He had found the bread disgusting. Untasty, unappetizing, unsatisfying. Well, bread wasn't exactly gourmet, but it wasn't normally this bad, either. Weird.

He was definitely craving something... fleshier. Uh, meatier.

He bounced his foot up and down to entertain himself. He sighed, and it came out much lower and much more grumbly. Also weird.

The bedroom door was cracked slightly open. A minuscule shadow flitted by in the beam of light, and suddenly that blood-covered dove was in his room. The bird swooped downwards and landed on Scout's belly, starting to peck him incessantly.

He moaned and swung his arm at the creature, his movement so sluggish that the bird avoided the swipe with ease. Scout could barely move. He just watched as

Archimedes pecked at his abdomen endlessly. He wasn't feeling any pain, though.

Suddenly, blood was dripping from Archimedes' beak and Scout's eyes widened in fright. The bird wriggled about and tore a hole into Scout. It buried into him and settled down just like that.

And Scout was fine.


	3. Chapter 3

Demoman jogged up to the infirmary doors and banged his fist against them several times.

"Oy! Medic! Get yer' bloodeh arse out 'ere!" Demoman angrily howled.

"Busy!" Medic called, his voice muffled by the door.

"I don't care if yer fuckin' busy!" The Scotsman shook the locked door handle.

"Ye better let me in 'r else this ain't gonna be very pretteh!"

"Nein!" Medic's attempts at ignoring the constant yells and knocks on the door proved quite unsuccessful. The doctor stomped angrily to the door and opened it a crack, just enough to see Demoman's highly unhappy face.

"Vhat could you possibly vant?" Demoman yanked the handle and swung the door open so the two were face to face.

"I want ye t'tell me what the bloodeh 'ell is wrong with Scout."

"Scout? Zhere should be nozhing wrong vith zhe little rabbit."

"Ye might want to see for yerself, then." Demoman grabbed Medic's tie and pulled him down the hall to Scout's room. The doctor was shoved ungracefully into the room and Demo quickly followed.

Scout was worse than before. Not only was Medic's bird sitting peacefully in his chest, but the Bostonian seemed to be numb to the pain. They received little reaction to their sudden intrusion. Medic stood awkwardly, mouth hanging slightly open.

"Vell, Demo, my friend, it seems as if you vere correct. Somezhing is VERY wrong."

Sniper had essentially passed out amongst the piles of hay in the loft last night after trying to shoot down an owl for several hours. He had given up after several attempts and eaten a granola bar instead.

He rose like a zombie from the hay, his hair ruffled in spastic lightning bolts going every direction. His aviators sat crooked on the regal bridge of his nose and the collar of his shirt was folded unevenly. He cracked his back, stretched, and allowed himself a gigantic yawn. He wiped the palm of his hand down below his eye, pulling on his stubbly cheek while he lifted himself up onto both feet.

Sniper picked up his rifle on his way to the trapdoor that led down to the RED base's second floor, which he then traversed through.

As he trudged through the hallway on his way to grab breakfast- gun in hand- a frantic German bolted out of previously-closed doors with fearful eyes.

The sudden appearance surprised Sniper, who jumped a bit and had begun to shift into a defensive melee position. Wrestling crocs made you learn your lessons.

"You a'right, mate?" Sniper questioned honestly, lowering his arms and returning to a casual state.

"Nein," Medic hissed, "Nein, nein!" His gloved hands flew up in the air despairingly. "Last night zhe BLU Medic called me on zhe phone in zhe infirmary. He only calls vhen zhere is a contagious disease on his team." He growled. "Shtupid, shtupid scheiße. He 'tested' a stem-cell regeneration on anozher man on his team. Vhat, did he think zhat vould vork!? Vell no! It doesn't! Und now zheir Scout has no sense of pain, and can hardly talk! He has several open wounds and lives vithout vorry. Not to mention, he is-"

Sniper shook his head anxiously as the Medic let out a string of German curses.

"He's what, mate?"

"GREEN! HE IS GREEN!"

Sniper gulped. Medic was so loud that the RED Pyro stuck their head out from their bedroom door and peered into the hallway wonderingly.

"Hey," Sniper muttered quietly, placing a hand on the doctor's shoulder. "I'm gonna get me some breakfast, alright? But considerin' you're in yer clothes from yesterday and, unlike me, would've WANTED to change them- I think you've been up a bit long, mate. Come with me an' Pyro there for some breakfast, and take a nap, alright? No battles today. It's Sunday, mate. You can relax."

Pyro skipped along behind the two men in front of him. The trio entered the kitchen where Spy was beginning to cook some food for himself and Engineer was making pancakes. Medic plopped down in a seat towards the far end of the long table and Sniper slid into the chair next to him, leaining his rifle against the table. Pyro stood next to Spy, watching intently the bright flower of a flame coming from the burner that the Frenchman was using to cook his bacon. Medic stared distantly at the wall in front of him, nervously tapping his fingers on the wood. Sniper assumed he was thinking about the BLU team again.

"Oy, mate." He tapped Medic's shoulder. "Y'gotta stop worryin' about this. It's not our problem, for now."

"Ja. You are correct. Ve vill be fine." Just as Medic's sentence came to an end, Engineer strolled over with a fresh plate of pancakes.

"Danke." Medic said, grinning. Anxiety still seemed to spill though his smile. He took a few of the steaming cakes and placed them on his plate. Sniper did the same. RED team's spirits were temporarily lightened- but it proved to be quite the opposite for BLU.

Over at the BLU team's base, the BLU Medic continued to examine their ill Scout after moving him back into the infirmary the night before.

"Medic," Demoman growled, "What the 'ell did ye do?! What's bloodeh wrong with the lad?"

The doctor shrugged and continued his observations.

"Scout?" Medic asked softly. The young one lazily turned his head to face the doctor. "How are you feeling?" Scout attempted to reply, but all that escaped his lips were more deep growls and moans. Medic's nose wrinkled. "It's almost as if zhe boy is a zombie! Hah!" Medic laughed ridiculously, dismissing the absurdity of zombies.

Living dead? Pfft. The name itself was an oxymoron. No one else even had to contradict it when it contradicted itself.

In the middle of the night, the BLU Medic and Demoman had lifted Scout (and thus, Archimedes) out of his bed and carried him back to the now-spotless infirmary. Medic had examined him all night and Demoman had waited by Scout's side, intent on learning what the problem was. He needed to know every detail of what happened to the lad. Whatever had caused the problem, he would hunt it down and destroy it.

"So do ye KNOW wha' happened t'the lad? You've been liftin' 'is arms with a two-foot pole but y'haven't given him inny medicine. Y'gonna help him or not?"

Demoman's arms were folded crossly as he asked these questions for possibly the fifteenth time. The German, yet again, just grunted and ignored the bomber.

Scout moaned. He felt incredibly ill, if not the bird snuggled up inside him that refused to come out. The Medic hadn't even tried to call his bird. He had found it more interesting, in fact, to leave the bird there.

Scout wasn't exactly happy about that.

At this point, he could hardly see anything. Everything was mostly white and blurry, and when he turned his head his vision still didn't change.

In truth, his eyes appeared to be glazed over and glowing yellow from the Medic's point of view.

His hearing was fading as well. He wasn't sure where he was amidst the white; he heard muffled, indistinguishable noises, and that was about it. He couldn't tell what they were or what had made the noise, but he at least knew the area in which the noise came from.

His sense of smell, however, was insane. Insane as in insanely strong. He didn't recognize the scents, but he could smell what he thought was everything. He could smell the strong scent of meat, all warm and fresh, sitting right in front of him. Several times he tried to reach for it, and several times his slowness had caused his failure. If he could feel anything, he could feel the frighteningly potent hunger ravaging his stomach. He wanted nothing more than a slice of the meat before him.

He got excited. He could smell it and it was getting closer to him. Someone must be bringing it for him. How sweet.

It came up to his chest, just near the wound Archimedes had created in him, and faster than anything else he could do he jerked his neck forward and bit down hard. A layer of plastic, or rubber, maybe, seemed to be over the meat, but past that was the toasty-warm food with a delicious dripping sauce. He pulled his head back, taking the meat with him, and he swallowed happily, regardless of the rubber chunk in his mouth. Loud buzzing and mumbling had shot into the air as soon as he had bitten. They must be proud of him! He was finally reacting to something!


	4. Chapter 4

Medic held his injured hand to his chest as Demoman scurried around the room in search of bandages. Blood dribbled from the wound and stained his white button-up shirt a sickeningly deep red. Maybe his earlier guess of living death was correct. It was starting to make more and more sense.

The bleeding somehow began to slow down. But why? Demoman had not returned with any bandages yet and an injury of this proportion would never be able to scab this quickly. His trembling hand began to hurt less as well.

"Demoman!" Medic howled, "Schnell!" The Scotsman soon returned with bandages for the doctor and quickly wrapped up his hand. The two had completely ignored Scout during their little catastrophe. The young one was beginning to move from his lying position on the examination table. Medic pursed his lips, thinking the highly confusing situation over. Since he was already bitten, it wouldn't hurt to touch Scout, he guessed. Hopefully whatever Scout had been infected with wasn't contagious, but that didn't seem likely, considering the injury Medic was suffering was numb, and shouldn't have been. His stomach hurt immensely and his hand had stopped hurting completely.

Medic glanced over the infected member of the BLU team. The youngster was sitting straight up on the metal table at this point.

Medic shuffled over and shoved Scout back onto the table so that he was laying down again. With haste, Medic restrained the Bostonian's arms and feet to the table with built-in cuffs (courtesy of the un-hippie Saxton Hale). Scout let out a horrible, ear-grinding screech and struggled against the cuffs. The doctor spun around to face Demoman, mortified. He didn't want to become whatever Scout was.

But who would? Was he really infected? Possibly. No, probably. The pain in his abdomen was doubling by the minute and his mangled hand was completely numb, as was, now, his forearm. He might not ever get the feeling back, and then he might not ever recover. What would his team do without their Medic?

Saxton would have their team exterminated. Medic opened his mouth to speak, but quickly shut it, thinking things over.

"Ye alright?" Demoman questioned worriedly. Medic shook his head.

"Nein," he finally said. "Demoman, you must listen."

The Scotsman nodded.

"Vhatever zhis is, I think it's contagious. I am not feeling zhe amount of pain I should be vith zhis injury. You must restrain me before my condition gets as bad as zhe Scout's. Ja?"

Demo frowned and nodded. "Aye," he replied with a small salute—a fist to his chest. "Are ye gonna be alright?"

Medic sighed. "I don't know. Just hurry."

Demoman nodded and followed Medic to another table stationed against the opposite wall of Scout's table. The German pulled himself up onto the cool metal and lay down awkwardly. The two were silent as the explosives expert fastened the cuffs on Medic's wrists and ankles.

"Leave now. Tell zhe ozhers to stay avay from zhe infirmary."

Without words, Demoman left, leaving Medic in the eerie clinic with the grumbling Scout.


	5. Chapter 5

He had run it over in his mind so many times. It was his fault, his fault, his fault. It was his experiment, it was his responsibility. And he couldn't think of a cure.

He knew how the cuffs worked but he wasn't about to pull himself out of there.

He wasn't about to let the rest of the team get infected. That would be worse than Saxton terminating their specific BLU line from work and essentially flinging them into a hospital. Much, much worse.

He started crying. Tears ran down the sides of his face and dripped onto the table he was strapped to. He was scared that he would lose his memory, like Scout seemed to have. He was scared he'd attack his teammates or die slowly inside the infirmary. His energy was already starting to fade.

Little did he know, Scout's memories and mind were still intact. It was just the loss of hearing and sight that caused him to not know where he was or what was happening.

But Medic didn't know that. Scout could still smell meat and groaned in an ask for food while Medic cried silently from across the room.

-/-

Pyro shrieked, scuttled towards the telephone, grabbed it quickly and brought it to his ear with a mumble for hello.

"Pyro, eh? Great. Could ye git me one o' yer teammates? One that speaks. A responsible one, too."

"Mmm-hmm!"

"Thanks."

Pyro placed the phone down delicately on the table, tiptoeing towards the run-down German wolfing down pancakes at the breakfast table.

"Mmmmmh!"

Medic looked up, his pupils tiny in his gigantic eyes, a grimace on his face and a dripping fork in his hand.

Pyro pointed eagerly at the phone.

When Medic's fork fell from his hand and clattered on the table, he was already at the phone with the piece to his ear.

His voice was a fearful whisper. "Hello?"

"Ah, th'Medic. Great. Well, th'Scout's a monster, but y'know that alriddy. He bit our Medic. The Nazi's turnin' too." The BLU Demoman stuttered. "Ah, I don't mean Nazi. Sorry."

The RED Medic stood silently, too in shock to take offense from the insult.

He turned from the phone to face his teammates. "Find our Scout, vherever he is. I must speak to him." Sniper and Spy rose from their seats and stepped out of the room to look for the moron, while Engineer and Pyro stayed behind and watched Medic warily.

Medic turned back to the phone. "Anything else I should know?"

"Well, ye know that you an' yer Scout can't fight in the battle t'morrow, but I don't really have ta till ye that. Other th'n that, I'll update ye."

"Danke."

"No problem, lad."

Medic was silent as the phone clicked into its holder.

"What's goin' on?" Engineer asked, concern forcing down his eyebrows.

"Nozhing. I vill discuss zhis vith the team vonce I speak vith Scout."

Engineer nodded trustingly and Pyro just watched quietly, nervous.

Sniper stepped back into the kitchen, his hand around Scout's upper arm. "'Ere 'e is."

Medic looked the nervous Scout in the eyes. "Zhis vay." He beckoned with a finger and the Scout followed him down to Medic's quiet bedroom.

The BLU Medic had completely forgotten about the little bird burrowed in Scout's chest. The small sound of wings made their way over towards Medic and landed by his face. Archimedes was an intelligent bird. Medic always had the idea that the creature could sense the way someone was feeling. The once-white bird was now covered in large splotches of dark red blood. Archimedes hopped around a couple of times and stared at Medic.

"Vhat is it, Archimedes?" The doctor asked quietly. The dove took a little peck at Medic's nose. "You're a bird. I cannot understand you. Is it Scout? Is zhere somezhing wrong?"

Archimedes pecked his nose again. Medic frowned and stared back at the bird. The little creature gave Medic's nose one last peck before hopping across the table towards his hand. The dove nosed its way under the doctor's glove and rested snugly on the table. Medic smiled as much as his tired self would let him, and then shut his eyes, hoping to get a bit of rest.

"Why d'ya think I'm gonna help you?" Scout scowled, standing with Medic in the RED team's infirmary.

"Herr Scout, zhis is important information. You're zhe quickest one on zhis team," Medic insisted, "und I need you to get vhatever zhat Medic was testing on his Scout."

"No way! What if I get caught? Plus, what 'ave ya ever done for ME, ya old goat?" the runner barked. "Th'resta the team doesn't even know that there IS a problem with the BLUs! You don't help anybody!"

"Scout," Medic growled, teeth and hands clenched, "Do I really need to answer zhat?"

"O'course ya do! That's what I asked ya, didn't I?"

Medic grabbed the youngster by his shirt and stared him straight in the eyes.

"Scout, vhere are ve?" The doctor was fuming.

"The infirmary. Duh." He snorted.

"And vhat do I do in here every day?" he questioned.

"Oh, I dunno, get it on with Heavy?"

Medic shoved Scout against the wall behind him, still keeping a tight hold on the shirt collar.

"Nein, you idiot. I heal you and your teammates. Same as during zhe battles vith BLU. And if you vant it to stay zhis way, I ask zhat you do vhat I say, or zhere vill be consequences."

"Fine, whatever," Scout rudely agreed, attempting to force Medic's hand from his shirt. Medic eased his grip and both men relaxed a bit. The Bostonian was then yanked roughly by his arm from the room and dragged down the hallway to one of the many doors that led outside. The doctor pushed Scout forcibly out the door.

"Now. I expect you to be back vithin zhe hour," Medic instructed.

"Yeah, okay, you dumbass Nazi," Scout muttered, running off towards the opposite team's base.

The RED Scout slowed to a stop, arms swinging, in front of the BLU base. His head turned from left to right while he analyzed the building's exterior. He'd been in there several times before, when capturing intel or protecting Spy during disguise time. His gaze rested upon the windows to the infirmary.

"A'right, time t'go in," he muttered to himself with a lick of his lips, rubbing his hands together. He stepped forward triumphantly and made for the front door.


	6. Chapter 6

Sniper gasped. After eating pancakes, finding Scout, brushing his teeth, and smoothing his hair, he had retired to the loft to spy on the BLU base again.

Through the scope on his rifle he spotted Scout rubbing his hands together and trotting forwards towards the BLU base.

"Bloody gremlin," he spat through his teeth. He threw down the rifle carelessly and bolted out of the loft, down the stairway and out the sewer of the base before anyone could find him.

Footsteps approached the infirmary where Medic and his infected Scout lay. The door swung open to reveal the opposite team's Scout. The runner clad in red jogged lightly around the room, clearly in search of something. Medic nudged Archimedes out from under his hand and the bird hopped to the edge of the table. Apparently the BLU doctor's condition wasn't as bad as his Scout's. So far, Medic hadn't felt the urge to bite anyone, but he had felt sick to his stomach and incredibly weak. The RED Scout grew closer to Medic's side of the room.

"Vhy are you here?" Medic whispered. The Scout jumped and spun around, drawing his scattergun and pointing it at the doctor. When he realized the Medic was cuffed, he put the gun down again and smiled slyly. The Bostonian leaned up against the table and stared directly down at the doctor.

"So, doc," he said, looking the man over, "What'd ya do?"

"Vhat do you mean?"

"I mean, what'd ya do t'yer Scout over there? And why'd they lock you all up like 'im too?" Scout scanned Medic one more time and smiled even wider. What a perfect time to get revenge on this bastard for all the shit he'd done during battles. Medic saw the smile and his brow furrowed.

"Zhe Scout bit me. I don't know vhat's wrong vith him. Or myself, for zhat matter."

"Oh. Is that right?" Scout seemed to be taunting him.

"Yes, zhat is correct, Herr Scout. Now who sent you?"

"The RED Medic. 'E wants what yah used to experiment on Chuckles over there." Scout pointed with his thumb over to the other runner.

"I advise you not take zhat," Medic warned. The RED mercenary strutted to stand behind Medic's head. He then pulled up a stool and sat.

"Yeah?" Scout grabbed a scalpel off the counter behind him and held it over Medic's face. "Why not?" The German's eyes widened and he attempted to move his head from beneath the knife, but was unsuccessful in his escape. Whichever way Medic moved, Scout's blade followed.

"Get zhat away from me! I am not stopping you! Just tell your Medic zhat he should not use it!"

"Yeah. I'll tell 'im. But we ain't through yet." Scout rolled on the wheeled chair and over to Medic's left side. Archimedes sat peacefully on the doctor's leg and watched Scout with beady eyes.

"Vhat does zhat mean? Vhat are you doing?" Medic's voice was still weak and quiet.

"Not much, doc." Scout said, turning the knife over in his hands.

Next thing Medic knew, the scalpel was plunged into his arm. All Medic felt was pain like that of a syringe. Just a small stinging. Thick blood seeped through his shirt at a rapid pace. He moved his opposite hand to a spot on the inside of the cuff where it could be unlatched. His index finger clicked a button and the restraint popped open.

As fast as he could, he grabbed the Scout and yanked the blade from the taped-up hand. The sudden movements caused Medic to grow dizzy and groggy. He stabbed the scalpel towards Scout's shoulder blade, only causing a light scratch in the skin. The man let out a cry and then yanked free of the doctor's grip, stumbling backwards.

"Zhe experiment is over zhere," Medic growled in defeat and pointed to the far counter at a few test tubes filled with a light-colored liquid. "Now your best option is to leave before anyzhing vorse happens to you. Und schnell."

Sniper was drenched in wretched, stinking liquid. He grumpily stepped up the underground stairs of the BLU base, cursing and spitting while trying to breathe through his mouth without tasting the stench.

His shoes squished grossly as he stepped up the stairs, and upon reaching the top, he found himself in the BLU basement; the BLU Pyro had gigantic headphones on and was sitting across the wide space, banging his head to what faintly sounded like vulgar heavy metal music.

Between the dripping RED and the head-banging BLU, masses of boxes and crates and strange whatever-those-are were scattered about the room. Storage.

Terrified, Sniper began to step quietly towards the next staircase, which he knew would lead to the bedroom level; upon his very first step, he squeaked loudly as sewage squished and leaked out of his shoe. He paused nervously, hands close to his chest and his teeth clenched tightly, while he watched the Pyro warily. No response yet.

Sniper sighed and stepped forward again. More filth dribbled from his soles and onto the floor. Pyro only rolled a shoulder.

Sniper was nearing the staircase leading upwards when a loud moan emanated from Pyro's direction. He glanced quickly over his shoulder and saw the maniac rising from his seated position on the floor, taking a stretch before probably departing.

Sniper turned and dove for cover behind a large stack of wooden gunpowder crates. He crashed into a large ceramic lollipop and it fell to the floor and shattered.

"Oh, bloody shit," he hissed under his breath.

A loud stomping came closer to Sniper, and he scrambled to get into an empty crate nearby. He was almost in when a dreadful shadow appeared, looming over his burrow.

"Oh, Christ- I wasn't tryin' ta hurt you or steal nothing. Our team's bloody

Scout came over here and-"

He was interrupted by his own gasp of surprise when the Pyro reached down and grabbed him by the collar. The being lifted him up with a frightening ease, bringing the Aussie closer to the source of the Darth-Vader-breath.

"I- I'm sorry, mate, I just-"

Pyro released the tight grip and dropped Sniper onto the floor. Sniper grunted in pain and rubbed his elbows. The Pyro still stood menacingly above him.

"Mate, honestly. I don't see-"

He choked on his words as a fireproof boot went flying into his stomach. He began gagging and dropped a hand to the ground, where ceramic splinters pricked his palm.

A gloved fist went soaring to the side of his head, and his vision blurred as he went tumbling across the concrete floor.

"Please, don't- I'm just here t'get the moron-"

He gagged again as the lunatic tore him from the floor by the back of his shirt.

Greenish water dripped from his wounded body as the Pyro stomped up the stairs, holding the Sniper like he was fresh prey.

They knew the perfect punishment for his destroying of their lollipop.


	7. Chapter 7

Sniper was yanked towards one of the rooms at the far end of the hallway. He wanted to call for Scout, but that might attract other BLUs and possibly make his stay here even worse. Sniper was thrown into a small dorm room which seemed to be none other than his captor's. Littered around the room were sparkly pony toys and posters of various cutesy things. A fluffy stuffed unicorn plush sat neatly on the floor next to an axe.

Wonderful.

Pyro wrapped one of his gloved hands around the splintery wooden handle of the axe and grabbed Sniper's wrist with the other. The Aussie relentlessly attempted to escape the Pyro's grip. The axe-wielding psychopath pinned Sniper's right arm under his boot and raised the axe. Sniper froze. He couldn't let Pyro do this. Sniper NEEDED that hand. After all, he was an assassin. How would he do his job? The gunman shut his eyes and awaited the worst, certain with the knowledge that he, as a beat-up beanpole, would have hardly a chance when a large lunatic holding an axe was pinning him down.

Barely a second later, the heavy axe was slammed onto Sniper's hand. He let out a strangled cry that could only mean horrible pain. Blood pooled on the hard floor around his mangled hand and Sniper could only stare in horror. From what he could tell, the little finger, ring finger and middle fingers were almost completely gone, along with the tip of his index finger. Sniper held his bloody hand up to his body and scooted himself to the bottom of the wall once Pyro's foot lifted a bit. His body shook and he struggled to hold back tears of pain. Pyro stood over the Aussie, and reached down again to grab his other hand, throwing him to the floor. Again- just like his right hand- this one was pinned under Pyro's foot.

"C'mon, mate!" Sniper sobbed, "Let me go! Please!" His pleas were ignored and Pyro raised the blood-spattered axe again. Suddenly, the door swung open. Pyro dropped the axe behind him and stared blankly at what appeared to be the silhouettes of Engineer and Demoman.

"Bloodeh 'ell!" Demoman growled. He pulled the shaking RED to his feet and looked him over, "Pyro!" Demoman spun to face the masked person, "What 'ave ye got to explain yerself?!" The bomber gestured to Sniper.

"Mmhmm mmrph mrh mmrrffrh." Pyro shrugged.

"Eugh," the Scotsman grumbled, "Come with me." He grabbed Sniper's shirt and gently led him down the hall. Engineer looked back at the small trail of dripping blood tailing them, disappointed in his psychotic teammate's behavior. The three entered the infirmary and Sniper was quickly led past a groaning Scout to the back counter. Engineer knew his way around medicine quite well, so he grabbed a few pain pills and disinfectants.

"This'll hurt," he warned, "Just try not t'scream or anythin'." The man switched on the tap and lightly took Sniper's injured hand. Engineer slid it under the running water and Sniper flinched, digging the nails of his left hand into the countertop. Tears welled up in his eyes and the Australian clenched his teeth, not about to look like a little crying girl in front of BLUs. A few moments later, his hand was removed from under the tap and quickly the large wounds were cleaned with a disinfectant. Next, his hand and wrist were thickly bandaged.

"Take these." The builder placed some pills in Sniper's good hand. Sniper obeyed.

"What're you doin' here?" Engie asked.

"I was jus'- I was just coming to, uh, get my team's Scout." His voice shook along with the rest of him.

"Now what was yer _Scout_ doin' here?" the man questioned further. Anger was beginning to throttle his tone.

"Our Medic sent the little mongrel over here. Had a word with 'im, he did. Not sure what for." Sniper's trembling voice steadied a bit. Both Demoman and the Engineer turned to face where their Medic had been left. Demo's eye widened at the fact that Medic was sitting up.

"What the..." Demoman muttered, and quickly dropped out of Sniper's conversation to assess the situation.

"Get the RED some clean clothes 'n take 'im to the other downstairs," the explosives expert called behind his shoulder. _Other_ downstairs? What did that mean? The Engineer nodded and began looking through cupboards until he removed a set of pants and a shirt. The Texan allowed Sniper to change without a glance and then quickly led him off. The two men with eye lenses headed down two flights of stairs and into a dank hall lined with cells. Engineer showed him into the first one two their right.

"I'll be back with some blankets, ya hear?"

The Aussie nodded and stepped into the barred room, door slamming behind him.

With hardly a finger left to fight, submitting seemed to be his only viable option. Sniper slid to the floor in one of the corners and awaited the BLU's return.

He didn't have to wait long. The short man tossed a couple of fleece blankets into the cell and shut the door. "Yell if ya need anything." Engie spun on his heel and disappeared down the hall. Sniper pulled the soft sheets up over him and sat still, staring into the dark in front of him.

"Bloody fuckin' Scout," he whispered under his breath.


	8. Chapter 8

Thirty minutes now.

Thirty minutes late Sniper was for dinner.

He never usually was. He was a grumpy man, and a hungry one too. And if he was hungry, he became more grumpy. Which was often.

Half an hour was much too late.

"Find 'im?"

"Not in the loft. Ye gotta bloody help me find 'im, lads. His gun's lyin' on the floor up there."

"He is not in zhe basrooms. Merde, I checked everywhere-"

"Mmmph mmh mmm-nmm!"

"Didn't find the doggone crook in his room, either. Checked the infirmary, too; Medic's workin' away at some test tube like usual, but I can't seem ta find Sniper."

All of the RED mercenaries except Medic and Sniper were collected in the kitchen, worried looks on all of their faces. Scout was especially nervous.

"He- he ain't outside, izzy?"

"Nope."

They all varyingly stood and sat in an anxious silence.

"Maybe he is at BLU's, da?"

The fighters pondered Heavy's suggestion quietly, with not so much as a mumble.

"Mmm mmh mm, mmmh mmnn nnmm mmph mmn."

"Pyro's right. If we don't find him soon, he could be dead. And respawn's off when it's ceasefire." Engineer spoke up that time, readjusting his construction helmet nervously. The gentle man was hardly ever loud most of the time, let alone in times of despair.

"I will try to find him. We have zhe best chance if I go," Spy volunteered courageously. The snake was hardly ever a source of bravery; more a source of backstabbing cowardice and cunning. But the Sniper was a RED as well, and Spy was the only one best suited for the job.

"If ya need anyone, tell us now, alright?" Engineer said sternly.

Spy looked around the room at the mercenaries with him. "'Eavy, Demoman; if you do not mind, you could keep guard outside if Sniper and I get into too much trouble. Scout, keep your headset on; I will call you if I need you to run in and back me up." He slipped a minuscule black earpiece out of his pocket and tapped it with his finger, gesturing to edge on Scout. The young man grunted and pulled the headset from around his neck up onto his ears. He gave Spy an irritated thumbs-up.

"Good." Spy took a deep breath and fingered the edges of his watch, preparing himself for his upcoming journey. "Here I go."

-/-

Sniper could hardly see with his hat and aviators on in the pitch black of the "other basement."

He wanted to take them off to get a little more light in his eyes; but taking them off required handwork. His bloody, fingerless (though including a thumb) stump of a right hand was not something he wanted to see or use, however.

When he couldn't shoot his rifle anymore, Saxton would hunt him down and kill him.

He didn't know which was worse- being trapped in a cell with one stump, one thumb and half an index finger, or being beaten to near-death by Saxton.

It wasn't exactly the BLUs' faults. Well, it was the Pyro's, but as for Demoman and Engineer, not really. It was a Mann, Co. custom for teams to take ceasefire intruders into the cells. The amount of time in there, however, greatly varied, as it was up to the captors. Any less than a week was considered "hippie" by Saxton, and the team line would likely be terminated.

Sniper prayed that these BLUs would be nice and eight days in the cell would be tops.

He was moping in the corner of his uncomfortable cell on a flattish mound of yellow straw left for him. His stomach growled loudly. He had missed dinner. He could only hope that his teammates would notice his absence.

He lifted his heavy head at the sound of clicking footsteps coming down the stairs. He prayed that it was a bold and daring RED come to save him.

It wasn't. They were his legs.

The BLU Sniper.

"'Ello, love," the BLU called out as he approached his wounded counterpart. He stopped in front of the cell, crouched down and lowered his voice. "How ye doin'?"

"Piss off," RED grunted, pulling his knees closer to his chest and turning away from the other man.

"Hey. I'm not here ta torture you. You're an Aussie too." He paused, but the RED made no move to reply. He continued. "Well, I still hate you, but us bush whackehs- we gotta look out for each other. That's why I signed up ta be your guard."

The RED perked up when he heard that, but his body and face did not betray his supposed eternal irritation.

"I got you this," said the BLU. RED Sniper turned his head to see the free man holding out a dripping piece of pizza. "Hope you like it."

The RED wriggled closer to the bars and stared at the slice before reaching out his left hand, stretching to grasp it with the only intact fingers he had left.

"Thanks, mate."

Sniper held the slice of plain cheese pizza in his left hand and stared awkwardly at the BLU.

"So when're ya gonna let me outta here?" he spoke up. BLU Sniper shrugged.

"That's up to Engie and Demo. I got nothin' t'do with this bloody problem. Now eat up. Ya don't wanna go 'ungry."

RED shrugged and took a first bite, watching the other Sniper disappear down the hallway. The Aussie slowly ate and watched the halls for any sign of people, rescuers or not. It was lonely down here.

Loneliness was probably the last thing Sniper needed to worry about. He was a solitary man, imprisoned or otherwise.

After finishing the small meal, he removed his aviators and hat one at a time and slid them across the floor to the other side of the cell. He curled up into the blankets and used his good hand to wrap them around his shoulders. Dark blood was beginning to well back up through the thick layers of bandages. He brought his knees up near his chest and hugged his arms close to his body.

Twenty minutes or so later, Engineer came downstairs with a ring of keys. Sniper poked his head up and the Texan unlocked the barred cell door.

"Time t'get you new bandages, son." Engineer motioned for Sniper to stand. The prisoner rose to his feet and shuffled over to the waiting BLU. The genius kept a firm grip on the gunman's shirt and led him up through the hallways.

Spy approached one of the back entrances to the BLU's base. This door opened up to where the BLUs kept prisoners; at least, if it truly did mimic the RED base then it would. Spy cloaked and snuck in, scanning each cell for the missing assassin. The Frenchman came to the last cell before the stairwell. Sniper's hat and glasses were there, but what about the man?

Engineer went through the same routine as earlier, washing the wounds, disinfecting them and bandaging them back up.

"You hungry?" Engie asked, drying his hands. Sniper shook his head.

"You sure?"

He nodded.

"Well I ain't gonna let ya starve, that's for sure."

"No," Sniper finally spoke up, "Your Sniper brought me a slice o' pizza."

"He did? Well that was mighty nice of him," Engineer smiled, surprisingly comfortingly. "Now, let's get ya back downstairs. You oughtta get some sleep."

Footsteps echoed down the stairs and Spy quickly backed into a corner. Engineer.

And... Sniper! That was a relief. The RED mercenary was shown into the cell and the door was shut and locked behind him. As the Engineer clambered up the stairs, Spy silently snuck over to the bars of the heavy door and uncloaked.

"Sniper? Is zhat you?" He clarified his previous guess when the gunman, who'd already covered himself with the blankets, replied.

"Huh? …Spy? S'that you, mate?"

"Oui," he whispered, "I'll get you out soon."

The Australian sat up, his bandaged arm still held close to him. Spy paused and stared at the injury.

"Vhat did zhose bastards do?" he hissed.

"It was the Pyro." Sniper glanced down at the white, sticky fabric. "'E chopped me fingers clean off. Well, most of them, anyways," Sniper explained quietly.

"Merde..." Spy muttered, "Well. We must escape as soon as possible." The RED Spy began fumbling through his pockets until he pulled out a paper clip. Quickly, Spy began picking the lock. Thundering footsteps stomped unevenly down the stairs.


	9. Chapter 9

"Oy! Sniper! Engineer told me t'bring ye this." Demoman spun around the corner holding a cup and some pills. The Scotsman's jaw dropped when his eye caught hold of the uncloaked Spy.

"Bloodeh Spy!" he growled, dropping the plastic glass and small round tablets.

Spy's small gloved hand whipped up to his ear. "Scout, come in. Help. Back door."

-/-

The RED Scout was sitting on the edge of his bed, bouncing eagerly up and down on the mattress with his scattergun in his lap. He had his hand cupped tightly over the earpiece of his headset, desperately awaiting some ceasefire espionage.

"Scout, come in. Help. Back door."

Scout squealed, relishing in his glorious moment of glee as he shot up from his sitting position and positioned the gun properly in his hand.

"YES!" he hooted into the microphone, probably scaring Spy.

The speedster bolted down the stairs and flew out the front door, zooming past the surprised drunk and Russian as he made swiftly for the BLU base's back door.

The sun was down already and the cool night air of the hot Midwest brushed roughly against his face as he bolted. The thunderous, following footsteps of Demoman and Heavy sounded behind him.

-/-

He was on the floor.

Medic- the BLU Medic- was on the floor. He had yanked himself out of the restraints, no big deal. Easy enough to escape from.

He was feeling especially lethargic and especially starving. All he could see was white from the fluorescent lights of the infirmary. They were blinding him.

Scout's grunts and moans still sounded like grunts and moans, but more muffled.

His ears were failing him.

He was in the middle of dragging himself across the floor, trying to reach the doorknob.

He could smell meat outside and that's all that he wanted. He didn't care what- or who- it was; he just needed to eat, to taste the deliciousness in that overwhelming scent that he smelled.

Scout was mumbling loudly, trying to get Medic's attention so that the doctor would break him out. Unfortunately, due to the lack of agility the two of them shared, not much could be done about the cuff-removing or the door-opening. When

Medic had swiped his arm at Engineer earlier, the Texan had taken care to take all important medicines out of the infirmary and into the kitchen, and ultimately bolting the door to the infirmary shut with a quick drilling and sealing.

Going on the assumption that Archimedes was contaminated, Engineer had left the bird with the two men in quarantine. He was doing fine, however, snuggling in Scout's lukewarm insides when he was cold. In fact, that was where the bird was now.

-/-

Medic's brain was on fire. It felt that way, anyway. A fire almost as red as his team's emblem.

He had been awake for nearly forty-eight hours; he'd gone on longer, but not for a while had he done so.

He was at his desk in the RED infirmary, and he had been examining, calculating, picking out flaws from, and analyzing the test tube of the BLU Medic's stem-cell regeneration formula that Scout had run back with.

He faintly recalled someone coming in and alerting him of something important; Spy was stuck in the sewers? Or was that Sniper. Sewers, right? Whatever. Wasn't important now. The only thing that was important was the formula.

Of course, he was going to test it on himself. No one else would ever offer to do so. Medic rolled up his sleeve on his left arm, steadying a needle full of hot, vile-smelling liquid in his right hand. He snatched up a scalpel with his little finger and carelessly dragged it across his furry left arm, crying out a bit as his skin tore and blood poured from the gash.

He quickly jabbed the needle into his left shoulder and sighed with relief- and maybe joy- as the pain in his forearm subsided. He watched with pure honest intrigue as his skin nearly sewed itself together.

He began to cackle with joy, thrilled that his recreation of the formula was working. It worked! And it was brilliant!

Suddenly, an awful sick jabbed him in the stomach and he dropped the needle as he doubled over in his chair with a grunt. The pointed syringe rolled in circles before tumbling off the table and shattering on the floor.

Medic rose up from his chair, tripping over his own feet as he stumbled sideways, then forwards, then diagonally, trying to get a grip on himself or on something.

His right arm wrapped around his middle and his left arm began to sting viciously. He stepped forward a few feet before falling to his knees, unable to control himself anymore. A bad taste rotted in his mouth and his energy level was off the charts, going from nearly-dead to just-electrocuted in seconds.

What was happening to him!?


	10. Chapter 10

Scout burst through the door with a huge smile across his face.

"Yo! Spy!" he called. Scout spotted the BLU Demoman and instantly fired two shots directly into the Scot's leg. There was no intention of death tonight. Only rescue.

The Scotsman screeched in pain and fell to the ground, holding his shin. The Bostonian ran to the base of the stairwell past the bomber, who was spouting profanities at the REDs. Demoman watched the doorway for any BLUs who might have heard the shots. All he heard was the blast of more gunshots and an angry Australian scream.

-/-

Spy quickly picked the lock to Sniper's confinements.

"Up, up, up!" Spy demanded, grabbing the gunman's right hand and jerking him to his feet. All three REDs currently in the basement sprinted out the door, Scout in the lead. The BLU Aussie on the floor growled viciously, hopping one on foot while he gripped the other.

RED Sniper's vision began to blur and his head spun dizzily.

"Hurry up!" the runner yelled. Sniper began to stumble and trip on the stairs to freedom. The three of them flew by Heavy and Demoman, who were waiting cautiously outside for their arrival. Spy put Sniper's arm around his shoulders and held him up until they arrived back home. Scout locked the door behind them and Spy rushed Sniper upstairs. They entered the infirmary together.

"Medic?" The Frenchman left Sniper in the doorway and jogged over to Medic's desk. He froze and appeared to be looking at something- or possibly someone- lying in a heap on the ground.

"Merde..." he breathed. Medic lay on the floor, eyes wide and glossy. Sniper shuffled over.

"Is 'e dead?"

Spy bent over, tore off a glove and took the man's pulse.

"No, but he may be in zhe near future if we do not figure out vhat is wrong."

The BLU Medic could barely make out the muffled voices coming from the people outside the infirmary's walls. Everything sounded like Pyro. None of his senses were working. His eyes were foggy and he couldn't feel a thing. A few agonizing moments later, the voices faded into nothing.

The BLU Heavy held their Demoman in his arms like a bride and carried him into the kitchen, Engineer trotting behind them. Medic's clinic was sealed shut in quarantine, so unfortunately there was a very limited supply of medicine.

"Bloodeh 'ell!" the Scotsman wailed as Engineer began to clean the wounds with the materials he had stored in the kitchen. Next, the Texan shoved some pills into Demoman's hand along with a glass of water.

"Take 'em. They're painkillers."

Demoman followed Engineer's orders and soon the man was bandaging his leg.

"'M I gonna be alright?" Demoman asked.

"Y'should be fine. I'll try t'get ahold o' the doc's Medigun. Don't y'all worry now."

BLU Sniper was hissing and spitting, bouncing all about while his right foot bled insistently. He hopped over to the slate-gray wall and leaned against it, groaning in pain. He tried to shake the blood off his hands before jumping up stair by stair to get himself taken care of.

By the time he finally reached the top, no one was left in the hallways.

"'EY! SOMEONE CAM BLOODY 'ELP ME!"

Engineer's face popped out of the side of the doorway. "Just a minute, son."

Engineer disappeared for one more moment before reappearing and jogging swiftly down the hallway.

"Gosh dag-nab," he mumbled, looking at the bloody foot that Sniper was gripping tightly while bent over. "Shucks. Ran out of bandages that I had in the kitchen. Wasn't expectin' this." He sighed. "An' Demo wants the Medigun." He looked over his shoulder at the entrance to the glossy white infirmary. "Gonna have ta go in there."

Sniper stuttered, about to argue, but he realized that if no one DID enter the infirmary, his foot could- and probably would- work improperly and get infected. The LAST thing he wanted was for someone to chop him off at the ankle and for Engineer to have to build him a robotic limb-end.

"I'll just get my tools."

"Thanks, mate."

-/-

Spy was looking up at Scout nervously, two fingers resting on Medic's throat.

Scout was looking down at Spy nervously, breathing rapidly without a clue as to what to do.

And Sniper was standing off to the side, shaking his stumpy right hand while hissing "ow, ow, ow."

The infirmary doors slammed open, startling the three conscious REDs and making Scout jump.

Engineer stood in the doorway, concern muddling his square-jawed face.

"Y'all right? Heavy said Sniper's got in a bit of trouble." He had hardly finished the sentence when he pulled his goggles from below his eyebrows and let them snap onto his helmet. His eyes were wider than a scared cow's at slaughter time.

"What happened in here?"

"We do not know," Spy stated with a fearful breath. "We ran in to get Sniper some help, and Medic was like zhis. On zhe floor, almost dead."

"Yeah, an' none of us guys know what's wrong withim. Or howta work his mumbo-jumbo," Scout added, jerking a thumb over his shoulder at the giant RED Medigun in the center of the room.

Engineer wiped his brow; an instinctive gesture of trying-not-to-panic.

"Alright," he began, stepping forward and wiping his brow again, "Let's see what I can do."

He headed straight for the Medigun, analyzing it carefully, wiping his forehead, and flicking various switches on and off constantly. Suddenly, the machine rumbled and a stream of scarlet light poured from its exterior, pooling like mist on the examination table.

"Get 'im on here," Engineer ordered. Scout and Spy obeyed by lifting the unconscious German and heaving him onto the table.

The sleeping man sighed as soon as the light hit him, his breathing turning back to normal. The rest of him, however, seemed to become paler and a bit purplish around the cheeks.

The men were watching him quietly, hoping he would wake while they were still there, when Sniper reached his hand out to the Medigun's light.

Nothing happened.

Panicking, Sniper pulled his hand away, glanced at it, and then stuck it back in the reddish fumes. His hand remained the same; painful and broken. The three other mercs watched him in his misery; even they were unsure of why it wasn't working.

Then the Texan spoke up.

"Those BLU bandages?"

Sniper raised his head, confused, and looked Engineer in the eye.

"Yeh."

"Take 'em off."

Sniper deftly peeled off the bandages with great speed, desperate to regain his fingers. Scout nearly retched and Spy looked away when he shoved his bloody limb back under the Medigun.

Still no reaction.

"I don't-"

"Did they give you medicine?"

Sniper's breathing became more and more irregular the longer his hand stayed damaged. "Yeah, they did. Painkillers."

Engineer's lips and brow tightened and he closed his eyes, turning his head aside in pity. He took a deep breath and looked back. "A RED Medigun won't work when the BLU is in your system."

Sniper just gaped. Small amounts of blood dripped quietly onto Medic's lab coat, and he pulled his hand away.

"What?"

Engineer sighed sadly, shaking his head for his poor teammate. After a long pause, he spoke again, gesturing to Sniper's mauled arm.

"I can give you a new one."


	11. Chapter 11

Everyone just sat and stared at Sniper. His hand was wrapped in bandages again and it hurt a little less. He was seated in a chair in the infirmary, obviously nervous about what was to come of his right arm. Engineer was forming a plan and Spy just looked plain nervous. The Texan turned to face Spy.

"Should we take 'im to the BLUs?"

The Frenchman eyed Engineer like he was insane. Sniper seemed to agree with his rival.

"After zhe stunt we pulled?! We may as well surrender now!"

"We'll give 'em a deal. I don't know what yet, but it's gotta be somethin' those BLUs couldn't ever refuse."

"Like what?" Spy rolled his eyes.

"We could kidnap one of 'em tomorrow durin' the fight," Engie suggested.

"That ain't a bad plan, actually," Scout piped up. Sniper nodded. "Well, us Snipahs, Scouts, Medics and Demos can't fight at all t'morrow, since half of us're injured 'n' shit. It'll just be Engineers, Pyros, Spies, 'Eavys an' the Soldiers."

Spy's eyes widened a bit. "Zhat sounds like quite a lot to be missing. Maybe ve should take anozher day off, oui?" he proposed. Engie nodded.

"I can take Snipes!" Scout chimed in.

"Take 'im where?" Engineer looked up at him.

"T'the BLUs!"

"Vhat? Zhat's a horrible plan. Vhat, are you just going to waltz up zhere and ask zhem to heal Sniper?" Spy's voice grew louder, "After all, you did shoot two of zhem!"

"True," Scout agreed, "But I got a plan."

BLU Heavy had come to take Sniper to the kitchen. The bear of a man swept the Aussie into his arms and carried him bridal style to the room where Demoman lay on the long wooden kitchen table, as there wasn't a real medical table for examination. Heavy placed Sniper sitting upright so that Engineer could examine the wounds.

"We better fix this quick. I'll give ya what meds I got t'help this, then I'll get my tools and go into th'infirmary."

RED Scout led his way to the BLU base as quickly as possible. For now, he was just going to get some painkillers for the Sniper and some more bandages.

Tomorrow was when they'd snatch the Medigun. The Bostonian entered and dashed quick and silent through the corridors and to the infirmary. It was bolted shut.

Dammit.

He yanked at the door handle as hard as he could, not even noticing Heavy and Engineer approaching. The Russian pulled Scout from the door, scaring the living daylights out of the kid. Scout screeched and kicked, but he was no match for the tight grip that Heavy had on him.

"Let go a' me! I'm beggin' ya! Come on!" he cried, "Our Sni-" his yells were cut off when Heavy placed his hand over the RED's mouth and began dragging him down the hall.

"Y'ain't supposed to be here, boy," Engie said sternly. "Now yer comin' downstairs."

The two men led the thrashing Scout down to the place where they'd kept his Sniper. Engineer pulled the headset off his head and took it, and Heavy tossed him into the cell, which still had Sniper's blankets, hat and glasses.

"Please!" he called as the left, "Ah Snipah needs this!"

The door to the upstairs shut with a clang and everything went silent for the pleading RED.

RED Sniper sat with Engineer and Spy, all three waiting for Scout.

"Ya don't suppose they...?" Engineer suggested vaguely.

"Zhe couldn't have. Ve agreed. No deaths during ceasefire."

"That's not exactly what I meant. What if they caught the boy? What're we going to do with Sniper here?"

Engineer gestured to the man who sat, holding his bandaged hand to his chest.

"Zhat I do not know. Let us just hope zhat he returns."

The BLU Engineer had finally had enough time to grab his tools and work on the infirmary door.

He could hear the groans and moans of the contaminated from the other side, and tried to ignore it as his drills and torches drowned out most of the sound.

Their sickness was unnatural. Disgusting. The whole idea of its truth gnawed at the Texan's nerves like a ravenous rat.

-/-

At this point in the night, it was already two in the morning. Most everyone had gone to bed, excepting both Engineers, Snipers, the RED Spy, and the BLU Demoman.

And the RED Scout.

It was freezing down there in the cellar. A pile of hay was pretty useless in terms of warmth and comfort, and the pearly blanket was about as useful as a napkin. Scout could only wonder how the fuck cavemen ever survived.

Scout was wearing Sniper's hat. The BLU Engineer had taken Scout's headset and hat with him. When Scout was little, his ma had always told him that heat came out the top of his head, so he covered it with the pale beige hat that smelled like alfalfa.

Scout shivered and curled up into a ball like a hamster on the mostly-flattened straw pile. His stomach growled loudly and echoed slightly in the dark, damp, empty basement. Scout covered his face in his elbows and waited. He hoped someone would save him, or at the very least, feed him. He yanked the pinkish fabric closer to his body, the tiny square hardly enough to cover his torso. He let out a distressed moan when he saw his breath become a whirl of white mist in the chill of the air.

Suddenly, his body jerked in surprise. The clattering of something thick and soft tumbling down the stairs had startled him. He scrambled from beneath the blanket to look through the bars at the staircase.

A howling, cursing Engineer had fallen down the stairs, leaving a thick trail of blood behind him. His right calf was horribly torn and gushing scarlet liquid. A loud moan emanated from the top of the staircase, and Scout saw Engineer look up at it, terrified. A fainter grumble could be heard in the distance from somewhere else upstairs.

Suddenly, the BLU Medic came tumbling down the staircase, rolling onto his side and hitting the wall with a sickening crack. Engineer had scrambled to his feet and was scurrying over towards Scout's cell for cover. The green, diseased Medic was rising from the floor and beginning to step slowly towards the Texan, one foot lagging behind the other.

The doctor's pace increased as the injured Engineer stood in front of Scout's cell, mumbling and muttering nervously, flipping through his giant ring of keys to try and enter Scout's cell- the one farthest from the staircase.

Mortified, Scout had thrown himself back against the far wall of his cell, staring, horrified at what was coming for the Engineer.

Still shuffling through the key ring in a panic, the scholar was suddenly struck down violently by a tackle from the zombie Medic. Engineer screamed and Scout just watched in silence, tears running down his face, as the BLU was vigorously devoured by the undead monster on top of him.

Nevermind. It didn't matter what his stomach had to say about it. He wasn't hungry anymore.


	12. Chapter 12

The infected Medic took bloody bites out of the Engineer's limbs and chest. Scout turned over, away from the savage snarling and spurting blood, curled up in the blankets and plugged his ears, hoping to somehow escape the horrible sound and sight from outside his cell. Barely moments later, a muffled screeching sounded from behind him. Scout looked up to see the horrifying Medic at the bars of his prison, sticking his arms through and reaching for the sobbing RED. Scout pushed himself as far back as possible and covered his head with the blanket, shutting his ears again. He sat like that and waited for the sound to cease. Minutes later, he heard a loud gunshot outside of the cell and quickly pulled the blanket from himself to investigate. The BLU Heavy stood with a shotgun in one hand and propped up Demoman with the other. The Scotsman had insisted to come along.

The zombie lay motionless on the ground. Scout looked up at the two BLUs with his fingers still in his ears.

"Ye alrigh', boy?" Demoman called out.

Scout nodded and stared like a begging pup at the two men.

"Suppose we should take the lad t'some other place for now?" Demo suggested to his partner.

"Da," the Russian agreed, "Is good idea."

"Take me upstairs first if yer gonna do tha'." Heavy nodded and picked the Scotsman up, carrying him back to the kitchen. Ten agonizing minutes later, the bearish man returned with a different set of keys. As Heavy unlocked the door,

Scout saw a possible opportunity to escape. He got up as soon as the key was pulled from the lock.

Without warning, Scout made a mad dash to try and pass the giant. Heavy may not have seemed like it, but he was smart. The little man would most likely try to run, and the Russian expected that exactly. He grabbed the Scout's arm and yanked him back, heading towards the upstairs while the Scout screeched and writhed. He dragged the Bostonian up the flight of stairs and into Engineer's workspace where the team kept most of their metal materials.

Heavy grabbed two pairs of handcuffs from the far end of the room and continued down the hall with a now-somewhat-compliant Scout firm in his grip. They entered the kitchen where the injured Demoman and Sniper sat.

Heavy sat Scout down next to the leg of the large table and fastened the cuffs around his wrist, wrapped the chain around the heavy wooden pole attached to the table and cuffed the other arm. Next, for safekeeping, Scout's ankles were chained up too.

Scout leaned against the table leg awkwardly with his arms slightly wrapped around it.

"Are we gonna just leave the boy 'ere all bloodeh night?" Demo asked.

"We're probably gonne be 'ere all night as well," Sniper reminded grumpily.

"Tha's true," the Scotsman sighed.

They stared at the RED, assessing what to do with him. Scout was immensely afraid that they'd want revenge from when he shot them both.

"Please, I-I gotta get back home," Scout's voice cracked, "Sniper ain't doin' well an' th'only stuff that'll work on 'im is the BLU meds 'n shit."

"Well that's no good," the BLU Sniper agreed in a stern tone of voice. He turned to Demoman, with a look suggesting Scout's release on his face, and shrugged.

"No way in bloodeh 'ell are we lettin' 'im walk away after 'e shot us both!" Demoman shouted. Sniper leaned closer to his comrade and began to whisper.

"I got an idea," he began quietly. "'Ow about we have Spoi drop off somethin' for them at their place?" Demoman nodded.

"We should 'ave Heavy ask 'im."

"I'll tell the boy," Sniper proclaimed. In an attempt to give Scout some comfort, he explained the plan aloud.

"And you aren't leavin' 'til we're done with ya," Sniper emphasized. Scout submissively shook his head in a sign for "yes". Upon hearing the plan, Heavy nodded understandingly and rose from his seat to explain the plan to Spy.

A bit later, Spy was off. All the men in the BLU kitchen decided to rest up, leaving the RED sitting wide awake in the dark room with really no comfortable way to lay.

The RED Spy and Engineer debated whether or not to search for their team's youngest member. Sniper had grown pale and quite sickly. He hugged his bad arm to himself and lay on one of the open beds next to Medic's. A faint knock sounded from down the hall and both Spy and Engie nearly jumped out of their skin.

"Go check!" the Frenchman urged.

Engineer ran down to the infirmary entrance and swung the doors open. When he spotted the supplies, the Texan wasn't sure whether he was feeling worried, happy or scared. All three feelings had stirred themselves up into a bubbly stew inside of him.

Scout, he assumed, was alive, but who... Who had delivered this?

Who cares. At least, for now, they could give Sniper some working medicine.


	13. Chapter 13

RED Sniper spat, shaking violently in his chair with his head turned away while Engineer injected the seventh dose of numbing agents into his right arm, courtesy of the BLU team.

Scout was missing, Medic was still purplish and unconscious, Spy was lurking about somewhere, Sniper was gripping the armrest of the patient's chair tightly and Engineer was calmly removing the needle.

The Texan turned and placed the object on a medical tray, shuffling through various materials. Meanwhile, Sniper looked down at his own right arm, his expression blank. When Engineer turned back, he spoke up honestly.

"I don't know if I can do this," the Australian said as he struggled to find more words. His mouth clamped shut in finality. There wasn't much more to say.

"It's this, or Saxton terminates all us REDs, chucks you halfway t'the graveyard and takes all yer money back." The Engineer was serious.

It seemed like an obvious choice, but it still took Sniper a moment.

"Fine," he answered. He swallowed with difficulty and turned his head away. "Just go."

Engineer took a deep breath. Before he continued his work, he pulled off his helmet and plunked it over Sniper's eyes.

"Whatteye-"

"Better if you don't look, son."

"Oh. Right."

Sniper took deep breaths whereas Engineer held them back.

Sniper screamed. Even seven doses of Mann, Co.'s numbing agents weren't enough to dull the pain that Sniper felt. He fell unconscious.

-/-

Sniper rolled his head side to side. The helmet was off, he could tell. His vision was blurry and his head throbbed like the raging bass in a loud song.

He was still leaning back in the medical chair; the examination table was still occupied by the Medic. Was that Nazi even up? Who knows. Not important right now.

As his mind and vision cleared a bit, Sniper looked down at his arm.

His wrist was now a thick metal ring, with a pivoting sphere connected for mobility. The sphere connected to a trapezoidal palm, with knuckled metal fingers sticking out of it.

The piece was painted a khaki beige, and there were already darkish spots where the paint was peeling or missed in some areas. When his brain gave the command to open and close his fingers, they did exactly as he thought they would. It worked like a real hand.

Just, now, it would be forever numb and metal.

The bloody axe that had cut off his hand was lying by the medical tray on a tiny wheeled table; the sight was too much for Sniper and he almost vomited. He looked away and squeezed his eyes shut, both hands clenched into anxious fists.

It was then that he heard the mumbling. Brain still buzzing, he peeked through his nearly-closed eyelids towards the source of the noise.

Someone was sitting up on the examination table, hunched over and grumbling words to whoever was standing in front of them. Sniper couldn't tell who it was.

"Oi," he called out weakly. "Look a' me. I can't tell who you bloody are."

The person seated on the table turned his head, and Sniper stared harder to get a better look.

It was Medic. He was awake.

The German's hair was a mess and he was still wearing the clothes he had been wearing on Saturday. It was Monday now.

His eyes looked sunken and dark bags sagged under his eyes. His brow shadowed his eyes as well, giving them a grim appearance. It didn't help that his irises were red.

He was paler than ever, with a purplish hue blotting his cheeks. His head seemed to hang from his outstretched neck, and his now-violet tongue ran irritatedly over his top teeth.

"Bloody hell," Sniper breathed. "You all right, mate?"

"Fine," the doctor answered gloomily. Engineer's worried face popped out from behind Medic.

"You all right, son? Yer hand workin' okay?"

Sniper glanced back down and flexed his robotic fingers. It made him nervous for now, but it was better than no fingers at all. And better than Saxton.

"Yeah, mate. I'm grateful."

Engineer smiled shyly, proud of his own work.

Medic's frightening pupils were eyeing the bloody axe hungrily. "Engineer," he stated, gaze unwavering, "Vould you get me zhat axe, please?"

There was silence in the room and an awkward void settled down quickly.

"Now, I'm not sure-"

"I'm not going to chop you, dummkopf," Medic hissed, whipping back around and glaring at the short American. "I just vant to look at it for a moment. I am a doctor, after all. Give it to me."

Engineer gulped, but complied; he picked up the axe nervously and carried it over to Medic like it was a dead rat.

"Danke," Medic said as he took the weapon in his hands. The two men with robotic hands watched Medic silently as the German turned the blade over and over in his grasp.

Suddenly, Medic yanked it towards his own face, making Engineer gasp, and licked Sniper's dripping blood from it before bringing it down to his lap again.

Engineer and Sniper stared horrified at the lunatic.

"Mmm." The doctor took a deep breath and released it through his nose tiredly. "Zhat vas good."

There was another unnerving pause when Sniper interjected angrily.

"Fuckin' WHAT?"

Medic looked over his shoulder at the Aussie, eyebrows raised casually. "It vas good. Your blood is tasty."

Sniper began to stutter angrily when Engineer stopped him.

"Now, doc," he chuckled, secretly scared out of his mind, "why're you lickin' up his blood, now?"

"Vell," Medic began, shrugging. "I can smell it, for starters. Just zhe blood. And I haven't eaten in almost two days. I vas hungry."

"Y-... You want a sandwich or something?" Engineer asked, pointing with both hands in the direction of the kitchen. The expression on his face was that of a man who wanted to be long, long gone, and drunk.

"No," said the scientist. "Just blood, danke."

Engineer sputtered and Sniper looked on quietly. "W- w-... Well all right, then."

-/-

At this point in time, the sun was already rising above the horizon and

Archimedes was cooing like he was announcing it.

The RED Scout was banging his forehead against the edge of the table repeatedly. He was in a ridiculously uncomfortable position, had gotten no sleep, and had to listen to that growling BLU Scout the entire night while horrific scenes of the Engineer's death flashed through his mind.

He was quite uncomfortable; he was still in the cuffed position, tied around the table's leg with Sniper's hat on the floor beside him. Honestly, he looked like he was trying to seduce the furniture with the position he had been locked into.

That's when he gasped. Maybe it was the burning sunlight beaming through the window and lasering his tired eyes that made his brain work, but it was working nonetheless.

He slouched downwards and then pushed the edge of the table up with his upper back.

The table lifted a few inches and in a fleeting moment he pulled down his hands and slipped the cuffs off from around the post, launching himself into freedom.

Almost laughing with joy, the idiot rose to his feet and began waddling towards the front door while the chains clinked around his feet. He tripped and smacked onto the floor, and he paused there for a moment before rising again and continuing on with his journey. The other Scout moaned extremely loudly in contradiction.

"Seeya later, ass-face!" Scout laughed, almost at the door. The sunlight was nearly about to singe his eyeballs but he didn't turn away. "I'm FREE!"


	14. Chapter 14

Scout contemplated whether or not to get the keys to unlock the chains or hightail his ass outta there. After all, RED Engie could probably get him out.

Scout grinned deviously as he waddled like a little duck down the hallway. Hopefully those BLU bastards were heavy sleepers. He inched his way down the hall and slowly towards the door. The time this was taking was agonizing. Why'd he let those dumbasses catch him in the first place? He yanked the door open in front of him and stood, eyes closed, letting the sunlight hit him. The warmth was wonderful compared to the chilly air-conditioned kitchen Scout had to spend the night in.

The RED leaned against the doorway and relaxed for a few moments before quietly shutting the door and getting on his way. A few times, Scout attempted to jog, but that almost always resulted with falling and scraping up his elbows and palms in the process. Scout's arms were beginning to burn. Sniper would always get on the Bostonian's case for not wearing sunscreen, and when Scout denied it, he'd always end up with sunburns on his nose, cheeks and arms.

He missed Sniper. And Engie. He missed everyone. Scout had only been gone a day. In that time he had been extensively mistreated by the BLU team. The RED never wanted to leave his team again, no matter how much of an asshole any member could be. At least they tolerated him.

Scout scowled at the newfound sentiment for his teammates. He was almost home. Not much longer until Engineer could get him out of the cuffs, which were now getting hotter and hotter around his wrists. Seeing the sun was maybe great at first, but now it fuckin' sucked. He slid the chains from down his forearms a bit to see if they'd begun to burn him where they had been resting the whole time. His wrists were red, but it wasn't too bad.

The RED building steadily approached him. Sweat had begun to drip into his slightly bloody cuts and made them sting a bit. Scout couldn't wait for them to be patched up.

The door finally stood in front of him. The Bostonian gripped the handles and pulled.

Locked. Another one? Dammit.

He began to pound on the door violently. He whacked the shackles against the thick metal for almost two straight minutes. Giving up, he slid to the gravelly floor next to the doorframe. Occasionally, Scout would bang on the door again, in the hopes that someone would finally heed his calls. Suddenly, after an agonizing half hour, Engineer swung the door open, scaring Scout.

"Scout!?"

Their eyes met excitedly.

"Thank God yer alright, boy," Engineer sighed in relief, "We w're all worried about ya."

Scout almost burst into tears at the sight of the Texan. He didn't, though, for fear of losing his manliness. Sniper stepped out from behind Engineer.

"Where 'ave you bloody been?!" Sniper seemed quite shocked.

"The fuckin' BLUs got me," Scout huffed, getting to his feet with the help of Engineer, "They had me chained up to a goddamn table all night. Didn't sleep at all."

"They didn't keep ya in the cells?" Engie looked at Scout in question.

"Nah. I was there first but then their fuckin' zombie Medic killed the BLU Engineer right in front of me," Scout shuddered at the remembrance of that gruesome occurrence. He heard Engineer let out a shuddering sigh at the sound of that. There wouldn't be much fighting for quite a while.

"An' then that's when they locked me up in the fuckin' kitchen."

"Did they hurt ya?" the Texan asked.

Scout shook his head.

"Nope. I just got all cut up on the way back here. Kept on fallin' an' shit."

Scout shuffled in and made his way to the infirmary with the other two. No use asking what was up with Sniper's hand. That much was pretty obvious.

"We'll patch ya up and get ya outta them chains here real quick," Engineer smiled. One thing that was odd to Scout was the fact that they hadn't asked where the BLU medicine box Scout knew had arrived had come from. They silently approached the double doors and before Scout had even had the chance to step in, the RED Medic had pounced off the table, dashed to the doors and leaped onto Scout. The youngster screeched and struggled to inch out from under the man.

"What the hell!?" he cried. The man held him to the ground and eyed him over.

Faster than Scout- or Sniper and Engineer, for that matter- could blink, Medic was yanking Scout's still-cuffed arm up to his face. Small, slightly bloody cuts from the gravel dotted his hand. Maybe that's what Medic wanted? Who fucking knew. The Nazi had always been insane, but this was something else. Medic was sitting on Scout, keeping him pinned while the doctor kept a firm grip on his forearm, eyeing his hand almost hungrily for but a moment. Scout's other arm was dangling beneath the one Medic held, stuck there from the chains. Sniper and Engineer were now rushing to Scout's aid.

"Get off!" Scout kicked.

His eyes widened into saucers all of a sudden. Medic had just sunk his teeth into Scout's hand. Blood poured from the wounds and the doctor began thirstily drinking it up. Scout's eyes welled with tears as the sudden pain grew worse.

Engineer shoved the German to the ground and pinned him with his boots. Sniper grabbed and stood Scout up before leading him to one of the examination tables.

The RED Spy seemed to have been attracted by the sound and wandered in. He froze at the sight of a shaking Scout, metal-handed Sniper and a screeching Medic, whose face was covered in blood. Sniper had now left the Bostonian's side and dashed down the hall to Engineer's workplace. He came running back with a pair of handcuffs in his human hand. Medic had almost escaped from beneath Engineer right when the Aussie arrived.

"We ain't got no time to waste!" Engineer hollered, "Hurry!"

Sniper obeyed and, as quickly as possible, restrained the seething doctor's right wrist. It had been just their luck that Medic's bolted-to-the-floor working table was almost next to the doorway. There wasn't much to chain him to in the infirmary, so that would have to do.

Sniper slid the cuffs around the table leg and attached it to Medic's other arm.

The doctor hissed and grimaced furiously. Sniper noticed the flatness of the doctor's teeth. He would have had to bite Scout really quite hard to draw that much blood.

The youngest mercenary sniveled and stared as Medic raged and yanked against the chains like an extremely angry dog. Spy had snuck over next to Scout amidst the wild commotion.

"I see zhat you could use some help, oui?" Spy asked, pointing a gloved hand at the chains that were still around Scout's limbs. The Bostonian nodded, still in a bit of shock after his warm welcome back to the base.

The Frenchman dug around in his pockets for the special lockpick he carried along with him.

"Ah, yes. Here ve are," he said, holding up the slim metal slice. Soon enough, the chains around Scout's wrists and ankles clattered to floor.

"Thanks man." Scout smiled shakily.

By then, Engineer had shoved a gag in Medic's mouth to cease the horrid screeches. Now, the victim just stared worriedly at his still-bleeding arm. He remembered the BLU zombie Medic and the vial of solutes that he had given his Medic with regret.


	15. Chapter 15

The BLU Heavy and Demoman entered the oddly silent kitchen. Demoman was expecting the Scout to either be begging for food or demanding to be set free.

And the way Heavy had chained him to the table, the boy wouldn't have been able to get any sleep. Served the vicious RED right.

The two of them strutted into the kitchen, then stopped.

Utter silence.

Scout was gone.

Demo howled in rage and Heavy stood, gaping.

"How the fuck did 'e bloodeh escape!?" the Scotsman fumed vigorously. Heavy's arms were now balled up into fists and his face was twisted in fury.

"I'll swear I'll bloodeh beat that boy into stew the nex' time I see 'im!" Demo seethed.

Engineer was stuttering on the phone, one hand holding the piece to his ear and the other gesturing defensively. Sniper sat quietly nearby at the kitchen table, his brow knit tightly in worry.

"But, ma'am, watcha don't see here is-"

"That's not the point, Dell. It doesn't matter what you think I don't know. What I DO know is that this entire matter is utterly ridiculous, and that you're all fired."

A cold hand clenched the Engineer's heart tightly, and before he could respond, the call was cut off with a brisk click.

Engineer's lips tightened, as did his free hand into a fist. He took a deep breath through his nose and placed the receiver back into its holder with sorrow in his heart.

"What'd she say, mate?"

Engineer didn't turn back, but instead continued to face the telephone with his head drooping slightly.

"They've done it."

"What?"

"They don't believe us." The Texan sighed. "We're all fired."

A long, awkward, yet sad pause settled between the two men.

"Saxton's comin', then-"

"No," Engineer interrupted. He finally turned around and looked at Sniper, disappointment masking his face. "He's not. The Administrator isn't taking our money, either. She's giving us twenty-four hours to pack up and get out of here with all our stuff before Saxton DOES arrive, and wrings all our necks like watered towels."

Sniper inhaled before sighing nasally, dropping his head into his left hand, elbow resting on the back of his chair. His fleshy fingers ran through his hair and he gazed at the ground blankly.

"So how're we gonna-"

"We'll have to get everyone," Engineer said. Sniper glanced up and looked the American in the eyes. "Even the BLUs, and Medic. Everyone needs to be out or they're dead."

-/-

Engineer and Sniper had left at least two hours ago to "make a special call." Spy was somewhere else in the base, probably sneaking around and listening on people's conversations.

And Scout was alone in the infirmary, save for Medic.

Scout had been talking. Quite a bit, actually, to the gagged doctor on the floor. Every so often he would hack and wheeze and grasp his stomach, leaning over, and Medic's eyes would follow him and watch him intently as it occurred.

Scout sighed. He looked down at the doctor, who was looking up interestedly.

"Alright, fine. I'm letting you out," he said.

He pushed himself off the table and his feet landed squarely on the floor. Medic watched silently as Scout's feet approached, and the young man leaned downwards, unlocking the cuffs with the keys Sniper had left on the tabletop.

Medic was rising to his feet, white cloth still tightly strapped amidst his teeth, when he hit his sweaty forehead on the pointed edge of the table, drawing the tiniest bit of blood.

The German doctor's eyes widened in fright. He was in a crouching position, only half risen from the floor, when Scout caught a glimpse of the tiny red blending in with the sweat and froze.

Scout's eyebrows came close together, drawing near as a strange and vulgar urge took place in his system.

He began to breathe heavily, chest rising and falling unevenly, and his hands twitched eagerly.

Medic saw the flash in Scout's eyes and rose to his full height at a rapid pace, turning to face the Bostonian full-on, but still pulling backwards and edging closer to the wall, almost for protection.

Scout sucked air in suddenly through his lips and then lunged forward, gripping Medic's coat and reaching out his violet-hued tongue to the dripping scarlet.

Medic grunted loudly in anger and shoved the Scout back, causing him to stumble. He readjusted his coat collar and reached a hand up behind his head, pulling at the edge of his mouthpiece and untying it before letting it drop to the floor.

Scout looked on, both anger and confusion blocking him up as he looked at the next drop of blood coming from Medic's forehead.

The German noticed the slight, hungry twitch in Scout's torso as the kid prepared to leap forward again.

Not about to let Scout attack him like that for a second time, Medic threw himself forward with a loud snarl and tackled the man he saw as a boy, throwing the Boston kid to the ground as he stood, hunched over, looming above him like a shadow if only for a second.

Scout kicked out his legs like a mule, a cracking noise emanating as his hard heels smacked against Medic's shins. He scrambled to his feet and threw himself upon the German doctor, and the two of them tumbled downwards, rolling on the ground.

The two men screeched and yelled, Scout flinging his arms down onto Medic with his nails scratching like claws and the doctor trying desperately to throw the Scout off of himself.

Scout suddenly stretched out his neck, biting hard on Medic's throat as blood poured out of it. Scout sucked up what did come out before the screaming Medic's fleshed sealed up almost instantly.

The two of them paused in their vigorous battlefor only half a second- which was long enough. The healing factor was a surprise. Unexpected. It had seemed that the solution hadn't worked.

Well, it seemed to now.

In the fleeting moment that the two of them were surprised, the Medic took it as an advantage and hurled Scout off of himself and the younger man smacked down onto the floor.

Medic jumped forward and yanked the screaming Scout's arm towards himself, stripping off a bandage covering the cuts and digging his teeth into the flesh, streaking his head down the limb savagely.

Red blood spattered onto the floor as Scout yowled and Medic silently tore at his skin. Almost as soon as the German has cut it up, it sealed itself together, the bodily fluids no longer dripping out.

Medic wiped his wet chin with his hand, bringing his fingers closer to his mouth to feed on the Scout's blood that covered his hands.

Scout was on the ground, panting fearfully, eyes wide as he watched the hungry Medic who kneeled in a puddle of his own Irish blood.

Medic pulled the hand away from his mouth and glanced down at Scout with his pupils, his head unmoving. Scout looked up, terrified.

A sneaky grin peeled across Medic's face, revealing whitish teeth stained red from the violence.

That's when Scout got it. His stomach growled and his brow became tight, shadowing his eyes, while his lips pulled back and showed bright teeth in a vicious smile. He nodded slowly.

"Oh-hohh, yeah."


	16. Chapter 16

Spy was sitting patiently in his room, swinging his butterfly knife back and forth, when he heard the clattering and screaming.

He lifted his head curiously and listened in an attempt to be sure of what he had heard.

There was a definite yowl of pain this time, and Spy rose rapidly from his seat and flew down the hallway, stepping quickly down the stairs with his knife in hand.

When he came upon the kitchen, what he saw astonished him.

Medic was released from his previous imprisonment, bodily fluids covering his jaws and neck, as well as the knees of his pants.

Scout was standing beside him, a scattergun in his hands, grinning maniacally while he hunched over in excitement. The bandages on his arm were hanging off loosely, and a giant, already-healed scar was in place of the gash Medic had given him earlier. His cheeks were a sickening dark purple, almost like a bruise; his eyes were shadowed and looked sunken into his skull. He was paler than usual, despite his sunburn, and blood covered various places on his hands and lips. He was laughing as Medic battled Engineer in hand-to-hand combat, while Sniper was desperately trying to stand up, clutching his bloody middle where Scout appeared to have blasted him with bullets.

Scout's laughing was cut off as he looked up at Spy. Fury ravaged his expression and he turned to shoot the Frenchman when the assassin switched on his watch and disappeared.

Scout looked quickly both left and right, glowering. Spy smoothly stepped his way across the kitchen, the loud noises of Engineer and Medic muffling his clip-clopping footsteps.

"DON'T HIDE FROM ME, Y'FUCKIN' GHOST!" Scout shouted at the top of his lungs, the bandaged hands on his muscular arms gripping the scattergun even more tightly.

Scout's insults were whirling when Spy reached him and stabbed him violently in the back, his cloaking device deactivating upon the attack.

Blood streamed from the wound, but Scout didn't fall. Instead, he turned his head, nose scrunched up as he grinned. Spy's heart dropped to his belly as Scout tore the blade from his own back, turned to face the Spy front-on, and plunged the weapon into Spy's heart.

Dark blood gushed from Spy's jaws as he looked downwards at the metal sticking out of his chest. He looked back up into the fierce scarlet eyes of the boy of the RED team before everything went black.

Engineer swung at Medic. His metal fingers struck the doctor's temple, and hard. Blood began to drip from a newly formed cut, and, to the Texan's surprise and utter relief, the bloodthirsty man collapsed.

Engineer knew his limits, and he knew that Medic would be up again within a minute or two. The Texan, amidst the violent screaming and dreadful commotion, raced down the hall and out the door. His current mission was to get as far away from there as possible. The RED Engineer was jogging through the scorching heat towards the BLU base, and tears streamed down his face and dripped off his nose and chin. His team was done for. He didn't know where the hell Soldier was either.

Too late now.

Engineer's jog slowed to a quick-paced walk. He stared at his hands and counted off who on his team was dead, missing, or bat-shit insane. Spy: dead. Scout: Crazy. Sniper: dead, or at least better off that way.

Even if Engineer did go back to check, he'd either be killed or it'd be too late to save the Aussie. Engie had given Sniper one last look before bolting.

The man had been laying, eyes halfway closed, against the wall with his bloody arms wrapped around himself as he wheezed. Sniper had seen Engineer look back. The two had locked eyes. Guilt filled the Texan. He'd left his friend to die.

Forget it. Forget it, forget it, forget it. It's too late. There's nothing you could've or can do. He repeated this all to himself and attempted to forget his teammates. That would never happen, though. There really was nowhere else to go.

Who was next? Oh, that's right. Medic: insane, along with Scout. Demoman: Now where was he?

Engineer stopped in his tracks. He had to at least find the Scotsman. He spun around and backtracked carefully towards his base. Who else was there? Pyro: probably still at the base too. That made two to rescue. Heavy: not insane... he might be alive too!

Engineer had been quite wrong. There WAS more of his team that was, for the most part, sane. His tears fell now out of both sadness and happiness, and the emotions swirled around inside him like one of the twisters back home. His team was being destroyed, but there were a few members left to save and cherish.

Engineer snuck up to the back door and opened it, preventing the old thing from creaking. He made his way to the bedrooms. That's where he presumed the rest of his team would be. His heart jolted when he heard cackling from downstairs, the two lunatics probably feeding on corpses.

The Texan yanked Pyro's door open. Pyro had been hiding, crouched behind the nightstand with Balloonicorn in one arm and his axe in the other. He whipped around and stared at Engie.

"Pyro!" Engie whispered harshly, "Get yer ass up. We gotta get outta here." The gasmask-wearer nodded and stood, creeping quietly out the door behind Engineer.

They snuck quietly down the hall into Demoman's room, making sure to be as silent as possible while Medic and Scout prowled the lower floors.

When they arrived, Demoman was snoring away, a broken bottle of brandy lying at the edge of the bed. Engineer shook the man awake.

"Quiet," he warned, holding a finger to his lips, "We gotta get ya out of here.

Come on." Demo almost started yelling when Pyro held up his axe. Then he nodded and stood obediently, though a bit dizzily.

They all tiptoed through the halls and down to Heavy's room, which was the first one on the left. All three peered into the room. Empty. After a brief moment of emptiness and fear, they left quickly, turning the corner towards the infirmary.

There was no noise. It was quite eerie. The infirmary was dead silent when they snuck by.

Engineer stared down towards the kitchen. Sniper lay still against the same wall that he had been left at. But now there was another body in the room. Not Spy's, but Heavy's. The Russian lay face down, a pool of blood around his head. The

Texan turned his head away and faced Sniper again. The man's chest still rose and fell barely, and blood trickled slowly from his abdomen. Angry shouting sounded from the upstairs, where Medic and Scout seemed to be searching for more victims. Engineer whipped around to face his followers.

"Run." His voice was quiet, but grave. "Get to the BLU base as fast as ya can."

They both nodded, understanding, and then were off, sneaking towards the back door.

Engineer jogged to Sniper's side. It was unlikely that he'd be able to save Sniper now, but it was worth a shot.

Engineer hefted Sniper into his arms bridal style and shuffled his way to the door.

Tears were falling down both men's faces. Engineer began to wonder why the two vampiric men had abandoned Sniper. There hadn't been many traces of blood around the Australian. They'd probably lapped it all up like dogs. And they were eager to find the rest of the team, probably to have a huge feast later.

Sniper's head rested on Engineer's shoulder and his tears dripped into the Texan's red shirt. Suddenly, a horrifying laughter erupted from behind them.

Scout.

Shots fired from the gun he held and bullets ripped through Engie's skin. Blood poured from the wounds on his back and he collapsed, sending both of the survivors sprawling onto the floor. Sniper tumbled over, letting out a sickening cry. Scout dove over Engineer and onto Sniper, causing more strained sobs to erupt from the man's mouth. The filthy skunk sank his teeth into Sniper's neck and the sobs stopped almost instantly.

Another set of arms- Medic's- pinned Engineer down. Teeth dug into the flesh of his neck and when he screamed, all that came out was a broken moan.

Everything after that went dark.


	17. Chapter 17

Demoman and Pyro dashed through the rough, rocky terrain. Sweat dripped from Demo's forehead. He didn't care what the hell had happened back there. Cackling from the hallways and corpses everywhere? All he wanted to focus on was the BLU base.

The two REDs burst through the door and ran into the halls in search of someone to help them. They came upon the infirmary, where the BLU team's Demoman, Sniper, and Heavy. Heavy, being the only one able to stand with ease, got up, pointing his rifle directly at the RED Demoman.

"Aye!" He held his hands out as a sign of peace. "I cen explain! Jus' put the bloodeh gun down!"

Soldier stood, feet spread far apart, shoulders set back, helmet on, scowl marring his face, Shovel in hand and pointed like a lance at the monsters in front of him.

And he was in his boxers.

"You fruit-fucking beasts ate BLOOD and interrupted Shovel's and my MAKEOUT session," he growled, teeth clenched tightly and chest puffed out. "And for that, you will PAY."

Scout just snickered, throwing his head back and covering his stomach as it became a full-on laugh. Medic's expression remained serious, but he snorted in contempt.

"Oh, yeah, you're real scary," Scout joked, his blood-caked hand wiping a single tear from his right eye.

"I am," Soldier grumbled harshly.

"And I'm real hungry," Scout said in a more frightening tone, cutting out the laughing and turning his head slightly sideways as he smirked at the RED Soldier.

It was then that Soldier's courage faltered.

"Danke, Herr Soldier, for your ever-famous jokes," Medic said with a false chuckle, glancing down at his hands and rolling back his sleeves a bit more. "But I zhink it's time you get a day job."

-/-

"So i' happened like this," Demoman said, the barrel of Heavy's shotgun pressing down on his chest. "I- uh, well... We uh-"

"Mmmmh mmh mmmph nnmmn mmn mhh," Pyro interrupted, causing Demoman to glance over. The BLU Pyro had his axe to the RED Pyro's chest, and was dragging it lightly across the fireproof outfit, desperate to give a torturing.

"Mmmmh mph bbmmm mmn, mnh mmmh mph!" RED Pyro said, splaying his fingers. The BLU paused in his axe-dragging upon hearing the RED Pyro's mumbles.

Heavy, RED Demoman, and the other BLUs in the room looked on in confusion.

"Mmmmh mhph nnmmn mmn."

"Mmmh nmnmnn mmmph mmh?"

"Mhnnah mmm, mm-mmph mhph mnhn."

A gasp came from the BLU's gasmask.

"Mnmh mnnhh mnph!"

"Mmmm-hm!"

The BLU stepped back, lowering his axe to his side. He looked at the RED flame-lover for a few moments more before turning to his team and cheerfully giving them the thumbs-up.

RED Demo signed in relief as Heavy hesitantly removed the gun from his chest, and he clapped Pyro's shoulder gratefully.

"Thanks, lad. Err, lassie. Whatever."

Pyro just nodded.

"But we need t'git out of here," the RED Demoman explained as soon as Heavy fully let him free. "All of us. Together. 'parently, Scout an' Medic became murderers an' destroyed our team, and they'll be comin' after us. Not just us REDs- all of us." The desperation and truth in his words pained the anxious BLUs in the room. Worry clouded his expression and sadness cracked at his voice.

"Engineer an' Sniper might be comin', but, truthfully..." He swallowed, and his

RED Pyro friend patted him on the back. "Sniper was alriddy dyin', and Engineer ran out inta the open." The BLU Sniper sucked in a saddened breath. "We- we can't be sure they're comin'."

"Alright," Heavy said definitely with newfound purpose. "We will help you. Demoman," he said, turning to his teammate. "Get other people. We will all leave soon, together. We must go."

The BLU Scotsman nodded and grunted his approval, rising from his seat and trotting purposefully up the stairs at the end of the hallway.

"Sniper," Heavy stated, pointing at the skinny bushman. "Get medical supplies. We will need them."

"Right-o, sir," Sniper said with honesty as he went off to fetch their stuff.

"We really need ta hurry," Demoman urged, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet in a panic. "Y'see, we-"

Two mortified yodels came from the Pyros, who were standing closest to the door. BLU lifted his axe, getting into a fighting stance, and RED pointed like a frilly three-year-old girl at the figures outside. Both Pyros stepped back from the doorway like anxious rabbits.

Mere seconds later, Scout and Medic stepped in, side-by-side. Their clothes were dark, drenched in the rainwater that had begun to pour while Pyro and Demoman explained their circumstance. Not to mention, maroon blood and other various bodily juices were heavily spattered all over their hands, faces, and parts of their clothes.

Medic was licking his chops, glaring around the room at the four men in front of him. He looked like a polar bear in his pale skin and suit with red liquid covering his teeth and jaws.

Scout held a freshly-reloaded scattergun in one hand. He was licking the bloody fingers of his other when he pulled them out with a smacking noise, raising his eyebrows and turning his sunken face towards Heavy and Demoman. "I think I could go for some more. Don't you?"


	18. Chapter 18

The bloodsucking duo stood in the doorway, staring. BLU Heavy, RED Demoman, the Pyros and hidden BLU Spy stared back. The Pyros stood close to each other, each one mumbling anxious phrases to the other. The Scout's face lit up in a terrifying grin as he aimed his shotgun in hardly a second.

He fired, striking BLU Pyro's leg suddenly. The pyromaniac fell to the floor, crying out in pain. RED dropped down next to his counterpart and was coming closer to attempt to help him up.

Scout had tackled the BLU Pyro before the RED could reach him, and begun ripping his mask off. A flurry of bright red hair erupted from beneath it. The Pyro struggled beneath Scout, and RED Pyro had backed up against the wall. Muffled sounds poured from inside his mask. Demoman and Heavy were pinned to the spot in sudden fear.

The red-haired BLU who was pinned beneath the Scout wailed as the dark-eyed Bostonian sunk his teeth into the exposed throat. RED Demo leaped forward, picked up Pyro's axe and was about to swing it into Scout's blood-covered head when something struck his back. It felt like a blade. He noticed the bluish blur across the room as pain shot through his body. He'd been stabbed with a scalpel.

His arm instantly lost strength, and the axe- with his hands still gripping the handle- sank to the floor and lodged in BLU Pyro's arm. Sobs and strangled cries rose from the ginger's blood-spurting throat.

Demoman sunk to the floor, tears welling in his eye. He fell next to Pyro and caught the red eyes of the Scout before he twisted over. The raving Bostonian pounced on the Scotsman and dug his teeth into Demoman's back. The dark man could hardly scream as it happened.

RED Pyro was kneeling down at the side of his BLU partner. Spy was now backed against a wall, uncloaked, protesting with the vampire Medic. His pleas went unheeded and the doctor jerk his already bloody jaws into Spy's jugular. All

Demoman could hear was the slurping of liquid- presumably blood- and the sounds of both Pyros wailing. He swore he could hear Spy, too.

Half of the sobs ceased, and the other more muffled half grew louder. Demoman couldn't wait to see everyone again. Engie, Sniper, Soldier, Spy and Heavy. He was sure they'd be there waiting. Another stabbing of jaws went down into his neck and everything, finally, was ended.

The BLU Demo and Sniper dashed past the kitchen door, Heavy barreling out of it behind them, pulling RED Pyro along. Those two BLUs heard the commotion from where they had been gathering supplies.

Demoman had found Spy first and then searched the building for Soldier, but the American was nowhere to be found.

With a few assorted necessities in hand, they sprinted for the door.

Heavy grabbed RED Pyro and yanked the wailing person up. They dashed and swerved through the halls. Hopefully those monsters would be distracted with Pyro and Demoman. Only the four of them were left now, it seemed.

Unfortunately, Scout and Medic picked up on the plan of the escapees flew through the hallways, chasing them down.

"Go!" Heavy commanded to Pyro, staying behind. The two blood-suckers ran towards him. Scout leapt up in an attempt to land on Heavy's shoulders. The Bostonian almost cleared straight over the bear of a man. Heavy grabbed Scout's left foot, which was conveniently in front of his arm, and yanked him to the floor. The demonic criminal smacked the ground with a thud and let out a screech.

Medic lunged forth and sunk his teeth into Heavy's biker-gloved hand. With Scout now wheezing, pinned beneath his boot, Heavy reached over and tore the doctor from his hand with the other. No blood had been drawn from the flat bite.

Heavy now had a struggling Medic in his grasp, dangling from the back of his white lab coat.

...Now what?

Heavy decided that he'd take his boot off of Scout and grab the little man's collar as well. That way he could walk away with them and put a permanent end to this mayhem.

Heavy removed his leg from the RED's back. The small runner darted up at lightning speed, seizing the opportunity and scrambling behind Heavy, climbing his back like a jungle gym. Scout hissed and dug his teeth into Heavy. The bearish man- still holding Medic- sank to the ground. The doctor wiggled from his grip and aided Scout in taking the Russian down. Soon, the two succeeded.

Heavy's heart had stopped supplying their steady source of blood. They stood, Scout grabbing his fallen scattergun and Medic wiping the red liquid from his jaws.

Meanwhile, Pyro, Demo and Sniper had all gotten a head start. They had dashed outside the back door, through the rain and tall, abandoned shacks. Pyro still wailed from beneath his mask. Soon, the RED could take it no longer and fell to the ground.

"Pyro! Get yer bloodeh arse up!" Demoman demanded. The RED shook his head.

"I don't wanna 'ave to leave ye!"

Pyro still ignored him. Out of the blue, the BLU Soldier appeared from an anonymous shack and began poking the RED Pyro lightly with his shovel.

"Get up, maggot!" he shouted. The two remaining BLUs stared in awe.

What the hell had he been doing in there?

But there was no time for interrogating now. The Scotsman finalized the decision of leaving the poor RED behind. He, Sniper and Soldier started to run again, and made their way through the mangled old alleys. They ran as fast and as far as they could go. Hopefully the fresh rain would cover up their scents.

Scout was cupping pools of blood in his hands and drinking it eagerly, swallowing the bodily juices in delight.

Both vampiric maniacs were hunched over Heavy's body in the BLU base. They lapped up his blood like it was ambrosia.

They finished their feast quickly, and the two of them rose to their full height, looming over the Russian's mangled corpse.

Scout was full; he had been, for a long while now. But he had obviously kept going. Despite what his stomach had to say, some strange and vile urge gnawed relentlessly at his brain. It only told him to hunt the people in sight and lap up their blood like famished wolves. It was a bloodlust so strong that even he, the real Scout, fell prey to its demonic ways.

He turned his head to look at Medic, who was peering out of the nearest window.

"Zhey are going," he stated fairly. "Zhey are in zhe Sniper's van now, and driving avay." He pulled back from the fenestration. "Ve don't have a vehicle. Zhere is no vay zhat ve vould ever catch up to zhem."

The two of them remained silent. It was dark outside, but faint gray light illuminated the spaces where windows perched. A crack of thunder boomed violently, and the hideous flourescent lights went out, leaving only the ghostly luminescence to brighten their vision.

A mere moment had passed in the shadows when Medic dashed forwards and leaped, flinging himself onto Scout and tumbling to the floor with the speedster in his grasp.

Scout yowled angrily, pushing and shoving with all four of his limbs at the doctor. He managed to throw the man off of himself. Medic hit the wall with a painful smack and slid downwards to the floor.

Another snapping of lightning and Scout leaped up, then running down the hallway for the stairs. Medic moaned and then screeched, intent on getting another meal.

Scout clattered down the stairs and back into the kitchen. He paused.

The bodies and silence haunted him.

Shaking it off, the racer scurried off, believing that a sewer-oriented escape would give him more of an opportunity to survive.

As he passed through the hallways, a grunt emanated from the infirmary and he paused.

But there was nobody still alive that he had-

Another grunt, followed by a tired moan.

Scout had to see this.

He stepped into the infirmary, quietly shutting the doors behind him and praying that Medic wouldn't dare to look there. He swiveled back around, and his heart nearly stopped.

He had almost forgotten about the BLU Scout.

The oldish teenager was still strapped to the table, groaning terribly with yellow eyes glowing. His skin was pasty and a much thicker green. A bunch of his hair had fallen out of his head and littered the examination table. And after four days without eating, his ribs were visible and his eyelids rested at half-mast.

RED Scout's stomach growled and he became nervous. He didn't want to eat the nasty thing lying on the table, but the bloodlust called to him.

Scout stepped forwards toward the zombie, looking down at the freakish sallow eyes that stared back up at him. The vampire twitched when Archimedes popped up out of the green's torso, still very much alive.

Scout fingered his scattergun, swallowing hard as he inched closer to the blind beast. He ran his eyes over the thing as if to examine it before consumption.

He took one hand from his scattergun, reached forth with it stretching from his shoulder, and closed the extended digits around a pumping bodily organ.

The monster didn't so much as mutter when its organs were yanked from its system, and it kept functioning.

The sound of stern footsteps fell to Scout's ears and he shoved the organs in his mouth, fearful of the German and starving for blood.


	19. Chapter 19

The RED Pyro was hiding in a shack, cowering in the darkness of the thunder and huddled in a corner of the walls.

His mask was off. He had to take it off in order to breathe quietly. He wasn't about to let his currently-useless mask give away his position if the cannibals were coming after him.

The cool rainy air felt strange and almost new on Pyro's face. It had been ages since he had taken the damn mask off, and he smelled horrid. He knew it, though, so all was well in the self-confidence department.

Pyro took a deep breath and sighed. He drew his knees closer to himself and wrapped his arms around them in a hug.

The damp oxygen whirling around him made him uncomfortable, yet it soothed him.

Maybe it was the scent, maybe it was the patterned beating of raindrops on the tin roof. Either way, the Pyro felt less stressed than he should have.

The BLUs were gone. All of them. They had taken off without him.

Assholes.

Pyro closed his eyes and took a deep, heavy breath. He sighed. It was time to get those vampires, he thought. And bravely.

Pyro rose to his feet and dusted himself off. He readjusted the high collar of his flameproof suit in a very business-like manner. He was a business man. A businessman also known as the harbinger of doom.

He stretched out his back and swung him arms, not about to let tight muscles get in his way, and he strutted forth, eager to give those villains an exterminating. Nothing was going to stop him now.

-/-

The infirmary doors slammed open. Pyro was standing there courageously, his lips drawn into a wolfish growl as he held in his hands the axe he had pried from the BLU Pyro's arm.

The vampires looked up, terrified from what they saw. Scout was on the ground, propping himself up by his palms, and he looked even more sick, with his red eyes looking vaguely yellowish.

Medic was leaned above him, looming over with a fist furiously posed in midair.

On the table there was an unmoving, skeleton-like dead thing that looked and smelled worse than caviar and urine at the same time.

Medic twisted his body around and cried out with fury and lunged at the Pyro. The passionate fireman pivoted to the side and swung the heavy axe forcefully, and it sliced into the German doctor's neck with a thunk.

Before the man could heal, or do anything else, for that matter, Pyro swung again. Hot blood spurted from the neck wound and Medic's head bounced onto the floor, trailing scarlet death as it rolled to a stop. The body was in a kneeling position, blood oozing like a waterfall from its newfound stump, before it pathetically loomed forward and smacked onto the tile with finality.

Pyro turned his head and he glared at the Scout. The boy couldn't even control himself, could he?

He was looking desperately at the blood that rapidly pooled around Medic's remains. His lavender tongue pressed against the side of his top lip as vile saliva began to wave forwards.

Pyro would give him a chance. If the terrible idiot wanted the blood, he'd give it to him. Attacking Scout now would result in a battle that Pyro was likely unprepared for.

The man stepped aside, spreading an arm to allow Scout to feed. Scout's red eyes flicked up pleadingly to the Pyro before allowing a thankful nod to emerge from his expression. The Scout scrambled forward, not only lapping up blood but tearing hungrily at flesh this time, gorging himself on the twisted body. He paused every so often, clutching his middle like it hurt him to do so, before continuing with his meal.

Pyro stepped forward while the cannibal remained hunched over, and raised his axe.


	20. Chapter 20

A mere five minutes later, Scout had two corpses before him, which he eagerly gnawed on. Dodging Pyro's axe was simple enough, and taking down the short mercenary was even easier than he'd thought.

Strips of flesh that tasted like heaven to Scout filled his open jaws as he piled it inside. Bloodstains and stomach acid and thick smelly liquids covered his face and hands and shirt collar. His own stomach pained him greatly, but he kept going. He didn't just want blood, now. He wanted the meat too.

And there were eleven other corpses spread across the area for him to feast on.

**_FIN_**


End file.
